


Wherever you find love, it feels like Christmas

by del_writes



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baby sitting, Birthday Parties, Bisexual Disaster Jaskier | Dandelion, Busking, Camping, Chance Meetings, Christmas, Christmas Caroling, Christmas Dinner, Drinking, Found Family, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Jaskier is trying his best, Light Angst, M/M, Mechanic Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Mistletoe, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Mutual Pining, Nothing to see here, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Rated T for language, Slow Burn, So many cliches, Sort Of, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg is So Done, a year in the life, and jaskier tbh, and there was only one sleeping bag!!!!1!, back to school rush, because geralt, carol singer jaskier, i apologise for nothing, just two bros hanging out at the pub, meddling siblings, mentions of bullying, no magic, not really - Freeform, obscure references, references to shitty english weather, slightly OOC, tags will be updated as we go, this should have been a ficlet but got slightly out of hand, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27898273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/del_writes/pseuds/del_writes
Summary: When Jaskier is singing carols, he ends up knocking on Geralt and Ciri's door. What should have been a one off encounter, turns into more chance meetings, blossoming friendships, and Shenanigans (TM).Snippets of each month after they meet, right up until the next Christmas
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 76
Kudos: 115





	1. December

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angel_Wings14](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Wings14/gifts).



> This idea was supposed to be a small, short fic about a carol singing Jaskier, which slowly spiralled out of control. This should be 14 chapters, 1 released each day leading up to Christmas (hopefully). This fic is also a gift/fic exchange for my beloved Angel_Wings14.
> 
> Title from Muppets Christmas Carol (yes, seriously)
> 
> Enjoy!

“Dad! There’s a weird man playing a guitar and singing outside the door!”  
  
Geralt didn’t get Christmas. He could understand the appeal of having a big family meal, and getting gifts for people to show them you care (it was easier than telling them after all). But the rest of it?  
  
All of the lights and decorations, the music, the obsession with everything Christmas that some people had. Not that he was criticising people for celebrating a religious holiday. But most people weren’t celebrating Christmas for the original reasons anymore. So why was it so popular? Other religions holidays certainly aren’t hyped as much.  
  
Despite all of this, the thing that confused Geralt the most was carol singers. Carols in church, fine. Christmas songs on the radio, despite Geralt’s dislike of them, fine. Going door to door, forcing people to listen to your singing? Odd. So when Ciri yelled that there was someone at the door with a musical instrument, he sighed.  
  
“Leave it, he’ll go away if we don’t answer.”  
As the first song ended, Geralt thought that would be the end of it. The usual carollers never stayed long. But as the second song started, and eventually bled into the third, he began to doubt his earlier judgment.  
“He’s not leaving.” Ciri stated the obvious.  
“Hmm.”  
“Well, I want to go and listen to him.”  
  
Geralt heard her little footsteps travel to the front door, and took a deep breath before following. When he reached the door, there stood a man playing his tinsel-adorned guitar with fingers that looked to be slowly turning blue, wrapped up in a thick winter coat and a pink beanie on his head, tufts of brunet hair sticking out from it.  
  
“Good evening!” He beamed, rubbing his hands together, leaving his guitar to hang from its rainbow strap around his neck and shoulders. “I wasn’t sure you were going to answer, it’s been a long day.”  
“Dad said to leave it and you’d go away,” Ciri said with all the tact of a 10-year-old.  
“Ciri,” Geralt chastised, but the other man just looked amused.  
“Oh he did, did he?”  
“Mhm, but I wanted to listen.”  
“Well, your father can make up for his rudeness by donating to the charity I’m raising money for by doing this, and then you can request any Christmas song you want.”  
  
He shook the money collection box also hanging from his shoulder and it sounded too empty from having done what must have been at least the whole street.  
  
“Doesn’t sound like you have much,” Geralt commented as he got his wallet out of his pocket. Maybe if he gave the man some money, he could be on his way soon.  
“Yes,” he winced. “Unfortunately, there are too many people who don’t agree with the charity I’m fundraising for. I didn’t think people were still so bigoted, but the world is constantly full of surprises.”  
“What’s the charity?” Geralt dreaded the answer to the question. Christmas was supposed to be a time for acts of charity so why did people not want to donate to this one?  
“Oh, uh, an LGBT+ youth homelessness charity.”  
“Hmm.” Well then. Maybe instead of the £5 note he was going to put into the pot, Geralt would go for a slightly larger note instead. £20 should make up for what other people are too cruel to give.  
  
As he pushed the note through the gap in the top of the box, the musician looked up at him with poorly concealed admiration in his eyes before breaking out into a wide smile.  
  
“Thank you, sir,” he said. “That was very generous of you.”  
“People think my dad is grumpy and cruel because he’s big and he frowns all the time,” Ciri began. “But he’s not. He always teaches me to help people who need it. He’s the best.”  
“I’m sure he is.” The man looked back up at Geralt from Ciri once again, and gave him a subtle wink.  
“You look cold. Dad, can we make him a hot chocolate? He’s not wearing gloves.”  
  
He should be wearing gloves. How careless to be out in this freezing cold weather without proper clothing. It’s probably so he can play his instrument properly, but it’s still stupid.  
  
“Oh no,” the man once again laughed, slightly nervously this time. “I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”  
Humming once more, Geralt made his way to the kitchen to put the kettle on. As he walked down the hall, he heard his daughter chatting away to the caroller.  
“That means yes. He’s not very talkative but all his sounds mean something different. Please come inside while he makes the hot chocolate. What’s your name?” Ciri was barely giving the other man a chance to respond, but now she waited patiently for him to answer.  
“I’m Jaskier.”  
“That’s an interesting name.” Ciri voiced exactly what her dad was thinking. “My name is Cirilla, but no one calls me that. It’s Ciri. And my dad is Geralt.”  
“Both delightful names, for truly magnificent people,” he replied, leaning his guitar on the wall ready to take the mug Geralt was about to hand to him.  
  
Ciri and Jaskier continued to chat idly whilst they both drank their hot chocolate and Geralt watched them closely. His daughter seemed absolutely taken with this stranger and he couldn’t understand how it had happened so quickly.  
  
Once the drinks had been finished and Jaskier had sung the song he’d promised Ciri after their donation, he stood and moved to shake Geralt’s hand.  
  
“Thank you again for your donation,” he said, moving away again only to gently pat Geralt on the back. “It’ll mean a lot to those kids.”  
“No problem,” Geralt rumbled, unsure how to navigate this overly friendly interaction.  
“Have an amazing Christmas Geralt and Ciri. Perhaps our paths will cross again!”  
  
And with that, Jaskier left the house in a flourish, with Ciri humming his songs and a faint smell of floral perfume lingering in his wake.  
  
***  
  
The next few days pass by in a haze of work, looking after Ciri, more work, and Christmas songs, and by the time the weekend rolls around, Geralt had nearly forgotten about Jaskier the Carol Singer. Once the weekend arrived however, and he and Ciri were in town for the Christmas Lights Switch On, and as Geralt looked up at the stage in passing, he stopped in his tracks as he made direct eye contact with Jaskier who was stood in the middle of the choir.  
  
“Dad, why did you stop?” Ciri asked, feeling her arm pull as she tried to keep walking but her dad wasn’t moving. “Oh! Is that the carol singer?”  
  
She waved excitedly up at him and he smiled widely, giving a small wave back before slowly mouthing “stay there.” Geralt and Ciri did as they were told, staying to listen to the rest of the choir’s festive set. 3 songs later, the choir filtered off the stage and Jaskier came bounding over towards them like an over excited puppy.  
  
“What a pleasant surprise!” He grinned at Ciri and Geralt in turn. “Now tell me, what did you think of the performance? You must have some review for us, three words or less.”  
Ciri giggled at Geralt’s replying grunt before offering up her own answer. “Brilliant!”  
“Why thank you, Ciri. High praise indeed.”  
“I like your hat.”  
“Yes, I quite like it myself, do you think it suits me? I think I might wear it all year round.”  
  
Jaskier wiggled his head from side to side, causing the bell on the end of his elf hat to jingle, and Ciri to laugh even louder.  
  
“What are you doing here in town on this fine Winter day, dear friends?”  
“Friends?” Geralt mumbled and the only acknowledgement he got that Jaskier had heard his confusion was a quick glance and smile.  
“I wanted to come and see the lights turn on, but I had to convince Dad,” Ciri explained.  
“Ahhh, is he a Scrooge?”  
  
A Scrooge? What the hell is a Scrooge? Is this man teaching Ciri rude words? Whatever it means it can’t be good.  
  
“He doesn’t particularly like Christmas, no.” The wisdom with which Ciri appeared to be nodding with was well beyond her years, whilst Geralt was still confused. Even more so, when Jaskier gaped at him and brought a mittened hand up to his chest in offence.  
“My dear Geralt, how do you not like Christmas? It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”  
“Hmm,” was all Geralt had to say to that.  
“He doesn’t hate it,” Ciri explains for him. “We’ll do gifts and dinner and have family over, but he doesn’t really understand everything else. He lets me decorate though.”  
“That is very nice of him. Would he object if I returned the favour from the other day, and get you both a hot chocolate? A Christmas flavoured hot chocolate?”  
“Oh Dad please!”  
  
As Geralt looked down at Ciri’s pleading face, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to say no, even if it did seem weird to be accepting this offer from an almost complete stranger. But Jaskier didn’t look like he could pose a threat to anyone, especially not bundled up in all his layers to protect against the cold.  
  
“Ok,” he replied quietly.  
“It’ll keep you nice and warm whilst you wait for the lights switch on later.”  
“Yes!” Ciri bounced up and down as Jaskier proceeded to lead them to a little café around the corner.  
  
Once there, Jaskier bought them all a drink, both Ciri’s and Jaskier’s with cream and marshmallows, and they sat at a small table, tucked away in a secluded little corner. Much like last time, Jaskier and Ciri carried most of the conversation, which was completely fine by Geralt. Rather unexpectedly, he found himself almost endeared to this musician who had treated him and his daughter with such kindness. Sure, he talked a lot, and was way too enthusiastic about everything, but unlike most people he wasn’t put off by Geralt’s lack of responses, or intimidated by his appearance. It was a welcome change.  
  
Eventually he bid them farewell once more and vanishing into the crowds as Geralt and Ciri waited for that magic moment when the streets would be illuminated by colourful Christmas lights, the warmth from the cafe sustaining them.


	2. January

As December faded into January, and Christmas slowly forgotten, the weather continued to be miserable, rather unfortunately for Jaskier. It wasn’t even cold in a good way. No snow, just rain and grey skies. These conditions were hardly conducive for Jaskier’s song writing brain.

His inspiration had dried up, unlike the sky. The only twinkle of an idea he’d had, was when he had met that gorgeous man and his daughter twice in quick succession. Their first encounter was enough to spark something, Geralt’s stunning white hair, and eyes that were almost golden in the low light of the night had stirred something within Jaskier. Despite them now meeting for a second time, he still knew barely anything about this man, the mysterious air around him making him all the more alluring. And his daughter had been just charming to boot and a wonderful conversationalist.

But as the time since their last encounter dragged on, and their paths didn’t cross again, even that inspiration abandoned him. Which made the lull in work he always got after Christmas even worse. In order to make some money, Jaskier once again found himself braving the elements as he set up to busk. That was another thing on the endless list of reasons why Jaskier detested this kind of weather. Busking in the rain meant getting cold and damp, all the while not making as much money because people didn’t want to venture outside in these conditions, and those who did speed-walked past, barely giving him a glance.

“Jaskier!” A small voice called from the other side of the town square, and Jaskier looked up to see a flash of ashen blonde hair running towards him. Once he realised it was _Ciri_ who had yelled his name, he saw Geralt further behind, slowly approaching. “Dad wants to know why you’re out here playing in the cold again.”  
“Ciri, don’t- fuck…” Geralt muttered.  
“Swear jar!”  
“I didn’t… It’s cold. There are better times and places to play music.”  
“Ah yes, but you see, I’m what they call ‘an up-and-coming musician’,” Jaskier started, tucking his hands into his pockets to keep them warm, “which means I’m broke and have to make money somehow. Hence busking.”  
“That’s so sad!” Ciri looked genuinely distressed by that and it threw Jaskier.  
“Oh no, sweetie, it’s fine. I do get other work, but after Christmas and New Year it’s quiet.”  
“What else do you do then?”  
“I play at various different parties and events. Oh, and I have an album on some streaming platforms but that only earns me so much.”

Ciri dramatically inhaled, and Geralt winced very subtly, showing the most emotion Jaskier had seen from him so far.

“Dad!” she squealed. “Could Jaskier play at my birthday? Please!”  
“Uhhh…” Geralt turned to look at Jaskier, eyebrows drawn together in vague confusion. “Maybe.”  
“How about I give you my card? Then you can decide later. Or just call me. For fun.”

Jaskier winked obviously, but it didn’t get much of a reaction from Geralt, other than the same stern glare pointed in his direction. And that was definitely a face Jaskier would be seeing in his dreams for a while. With bone structure that exquisite, how could he not fantasise about Geralt’s face?

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon if fate has anything to do with it,” Jaskier continued, not put off by the lack of responses. “Someone up there _really_ wants us to be friends. Not that I’m complaining. Any opportunity I have to gaze at you is a gift. And obviously Ciri is the most delightful part of these chance meetings. Should this not occur again I would miss your boundless enthusiasm terribly.”  
“You’ll see us again,” Ciri nodded with determination. “I’ll convince Dad to let me have you play music for my party.”  
“Hmm,” Geralt hummed once again in what appeared to be his standard response.

But as Geralt gently tugged Ciri away as she called a goodbye over her shoulder, Jaskier saw Geralt gently tuck the business card into his pocket with far too much care for someone who was just going to throw it out again.

Maybe Jaskier’s luck was looking up.


	3. February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the shorter chapters, but there will a couple of longer ones later on to make up for this. Enjoy!

“Ah shit, fuck!” A voice from the next aisle over yelled. Geralt tried to ignore it, but as the man continued swearing, he decided maybe helping would be better than listening to this noise. Especially since a mother with two small children was starting to look red with rage. “Fucking bollocks!”

Rounding the corner into the confectionary aisle of the shop, he somehow wasn’t surprised to see Jaskier surrounded by fallen boxes of chocolates, a few still clutched frantically in his arms.

“Jaskier,” Geralt grumbled. “Stop swearing. There are children.”  
“Ah, Geralt.” The rest of the boxes dropped from his hands, but he quickly pulled himself together and casually leant on the shelves next to him. “Are you following me, you scamp?”  
“That’s a lot of chocolate.”  
“Well, yes.”

He began scrambling to pick everything up, placing several boxes and cards in Geralt’s arms.

“I like to get Valentine’s gifts for people who wouldn’t get them otherwise.” As Geralt hummed at him, Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Don’t ‘hmm’ at me. Let me guess, you don’t like Valentine’s Day either.”  
“Not particularly.”  
“Why? Have you not got a partner, or a significant other or, or a spouse to spoil you rotten?”  
“… No.”  
“Interesting. Carry these to the till for me will you, dear?”

Jaskier eyed the shelf and Geralt’s arms before adding one more box onto the pile. Following behind Jaskier, his own basket still woefully empty, Geralt listened to Jaskier babble on.

“I have a couple of friends who get sad around this time of year, probably jealous of all the gifts I receive from my adoring fans,” he winked. “No, in all seriousness, I thought it might cheer them up to receive some chocolates and a card from a ‘secret admirer’. I’ve got some for my neighbours too, both living alone. I love this time of year-”  
“You said that about Christmas.”  
“Yes and I love Valentine’s Day too. You’re allowed to like more than one time of year, Geralt, although your track record currently indicates you can also like none.”  
“Hmm.”  
“I knew you’d say that.”

Once they arrived at the tills, Jaskier started unceremoniously dumping the boxes from Geralt’s hold and onto the conveyor belt. He made a shooing movement with his hands.

“Ok, you’re free to go and finish your shopping for you and your angel of a child.”  
“Thanks?”  
“Say hello for me! I’m sad to miss her.”

Nodding, Geralt carefully backed away from the tills, and back to his shopping.

A few days later, on February to be precise, as Geralt opened the door to take Ciri to school, there sat a very familiar box of chocolates, and two cards, one addressed to him and one to Ciri, both signed with a question mark. If he smiled slightly to himself as he placed the gifts back inside, no one needed to know.


	4. March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So turns out uni deadlines are a pain in my ass that kill my writing inspiration as well as eating up my time. Sorry for the delay! I'd hoped that putting that there would be a chapter a day down in writing would force me to actually update everyday but here we are... Another sort one today lads, but we're getting to the longer chapters

It had been a long time since Jaskier had been to a children’s birthday party, but this was exactly how he remembered it: brightly coloured decorations, several bowls of snacks, loud cheesy pop music, and a grumpy parent stood in the corner wishing they could be anywhere else.

To be fair to Geralt, when Jaskier had said he played music for parties, he had meant more work place functions, or bigger celebrations in halls rather than small parties for 10-year-olds-going-on-11, so he also felt a bit odd. But Jaskier was a performer, and he thrived in whatever audience he was in. Geralt, however, definitely did not look like he was thriving.

His eyes were scrunched closed, with one hand gently massaging his temples, showing the beginning of a headache. As another peel of high-pitched childish laughter rang out, Geralt winced.

“Was my playing really that bad that you’re in pain?” Jaskier joked. Geralt grumbled in response and Jaskier just giggled back. “We’ll all be out of your hair soon.”  
“And then it’s the ‘family’ gathering.”  
“Oh you poor soul. If your family is anything like mine, I pity you. My sisters are a nightmare. Unless they’re all like you?”  
“It will be an evening of my brothers spoiling my daughter whilst ganging up on me with my ex about me doing more with life than work. Like dating.” His face screwed up in disgust.  
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. You should listen to them, surely there’d be people lining up around the block to date you.”  
“No.”  
“Don’t you want companionship? At least, companionship that’s not an 11-year-old girl.”  
“I need no one.”  
“We’ll see about that.”

A steady silence settled over them once again and Jaskier stood fiddling with his guitar, taping against the strings absent-mindedly. Glancing out the corner of his eye at Geralt, he saw him looking at Ciri, surrounded by friends who were absolutely enamoured by her. Jaskier felt a flood of affection swoop through him for these two people who he was still getting to know but felt strangely drawn to.

Yes, it was true that Jaskier had a habit or getting attached too quickly or falling in love at first sight, but this felt different to that. It was hard to tell with Geralt, but Jaskier had the feeling that he also felt this connection. Maybe he should try and push this, and get them to meet more as friends than random meetings and being hired for a birthday party.

“Well, if your brothers bother you today, tell them you’ve made a new friend.”  
“Hmm.” Jaskier was starting to pick up the subtle signs of Geralt’s emotions now, and at that he saw the smallest of smiles creep onto his face.  
“Don’t be like that,” he continued as though he didn’t know that Geralt was pleased by that statement. “We _are_ friends now. And you have my number, and I have yours so I will drag you out of the house to have some fun if I have to.”  
“Fine.”  
Jaskier blinked. “Fine? I expected more of a fight but I’ll take it.”

A loud knock at the door sounded and Ciri squealed from the other side of the room before sprinting down the hall.

“Uncle Lambert! Uncle Eskel!”  
“Hey birthday girl!”

Two men as large as Geralt, and just as stern looking, came into the front room, one of them with Ciri clinging onto him like a koala.

“Hey Geralt, I know we’re early but we thought we’d help you- oh.” The one not holding Ciri turned to look at Jaskier, beginning to smirk. “I see you already have help.”  
“I was just the entertainment,” Jaskier smiled, patting his guitar. “I’ll be leaving now though. See you soon, Geralt?”  
Geralt looked from Jaskier to his brothers, then back to Jaskier again. “Yes. Thanks again.”  
“My pleasure. It always is if I get to perform. Bye Ciri!”

Ciri promptly dropped from her uncle’s grasp and made her way to Jaskier, giving him a tight hug, and that well of affection overflowed once again.

“See you soon!” She said firmly. “If dad doesn’t organise it, I’ll steal his phone and do it.”  
“I don’t doubt that. Have a good rest of your birthday.”  
“I will!”

Ciri beamed up at him, and when Jaskier glanced back over to Geralt, he saw him smiling fondly too.


	5. April

“What do you mean you can’t look after Ciri this week?”  
“I mean that work is too busy and I physically can’t.”

Geralt groaned low in his throat, trying to keep quiet so as not to distress Ciri who was watching TV in the front room.

“Yen, you always help over the holidays, and you agreed this year, why is it suddenly a problem?” He was trying not to snap, he really was, but it was hard. He just hoped Yennefer would keep her cool otherwise they’d be arguing before they knew it.  
“You’ve got to remember I got promoted recently, I’m not able to just take two weeks off. And there’s a big project. I love Ciri, you know I do, but I can’t just drop everything right now.”  
“Hmm. What about Triss?”  
“Also has work. Do you have any other alternatives?”

He thought for a moment. The only other people who usually looked after Ciri were Eskel, Lambert, or Vesemir, who would all be working for the next two weeks. Who else could he ask? As if on cue, he felt his phone buzz next to his ear.

“I might,” he said shortly.  
“Good. Let me know. I’ll see you both soon.”

As Yen hung up, Geralt checked his text messages to see who had contacted him. He was pretty sure he knew who it would be, only one person would be texting him right now.

From: Jaskier  
I have been rudely awoken from my slumber by my neighbour’s terror of a dog  
You first look at this dog and it’s like ‘oh aren’t you just the cutest?’ then BAM  
Nightmare  
And that is not the only thing that has gone wrong so far today oh no

To: Jaskier  
Jaskier stop

Geralt sent a message to interrupt the endless stream of messages, otherwise it would be at least 5 minutes until things wound down again.

From: Jaskier  
Ah Geralt!  
Shouldn’t you be on school run?

To: Jaskier  
No. Easter Holidays

From: Jaskier  
Yes of course!  
Did you manage to get time off of work then?

To: Jaskier  
No

From: Jaskier  
Who’s looking after the young one then?

To: Jaskier  
Yen cancelled

The next minute, the phone started ringing again, and Geralt really wished this conversation could have stayed on text message. There had already been too much verbal conversation today. But Jaskier very much seemed to prefer actual _talking_ to texting. Reluctantly, Geralt pressed the accept call button, bracing himself for more talking.

“Ok so I don’t know this Yen person, but how dare they cancel,” Jaskier started, no greetings necessary.  
“She has to work,” Geralt filled in before Jaskier properly worked himself up once again.  
“Not a good enough excuse if you ask me.”  
“I didn’t.”  
“Yeah well, you’re getting my opinion anyway. What are you going to do, Geralt?”

Geralt sighed, mentally preparing for the next part of this conversation. Asking for help was hard.

“Are you busy today?” he practically mumbled.  
“Absolutely not, my calendar is far too empty at the moment.”  
“Could I ask you a favour?”  
“Of course, anything.”  
“Can you please look after Ciri today? I’ll find an alternative for the rest of the holiday but-”  
“I’m going to stop you there. Don’t bother, I will be happy to spend the entire 2-week holiday with her if need be.”  
“I can sort out a way to pay you-”  
“Once again, do not continue, darling. Just make sure there’s enough food in the house for the three of us to eat, and we’ll call it even. Maybe I’ll even try to have some dinner ready for you after you finish. But no promises, my cooking is hit and miss.”

Exhaling in relief, Geralt nodded to himself, feeling a lot calmer all of a sudden. He made eye contact with Ciri through the door and she raised an eyebrow at him in question.

“Ciri,” he said, covering the phone microphone with his hand. “Auntie Yen had to cancel, would you be happy to let Jaskier keep you company?”  
She inhaled loudly and began to almost vibrate with excitement. “Yes! That would be so cool!”  
Returning back to the phone and Jaskier, Geralt continued. “When can you get here?”  
“Maybe in half an hour?”  
“Ok… Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome. See you soon!”

Well, that sorted that. Now all Geralt had to do was text Vesemir to explain why he would be late to work today. Fuck.

***

Ciri was still asleep.

Jaskier had arrived almost an hour ago when Geralt had left for work, and Ciri still hadn’t emerged from her room. He’d heard of teenagers sleeping until midday, but not 11-year-olds. Not that it was midday, it was 9 O’clock, which wasn’t terrible, but she was usually up to see Geralt off. Maybe their madness the day before had really tired her out.

Maybe he should wake her up though. Otherwise Geralt would have trouble getting her to sleep on time later.

“Ciri?” he started quietly, slowly entering her room.

An answering grumbled emerged from the pile of duvets, so Jaskier continued to coax her out of her cocoon.

“Wake up, Ciri. Rise and Shining,” he continued in a funny voice, still only getting a hmm worthy of her father in response. “Wakey waking, Ciri... Wake up!”

Ciri’s head finally appeared from the blankets and she gave him a bleary-eyed look.

“What are you doing?” she rasped.  
“Waking you up, it’s 9.”  
“I mean with the voice. And the words.”  
“I was quoting King Julien.”

When all he got in reply to that was a blank look from Ciri, which wasn’t because she had just woken up, Jaskier realised something. He gasped dramatically, earning a small giggle from Ciri.

“You don’t mean to tell me you’ve never seen Madagascar?”  
“Nope.”  
“Well we’re fixing that today. It’s brilliant. I loved King Julien because he was over the top and we had the same name.”  
“You don’t though.”  
“My name is actually Julian.”

That got Ciri moving. She sat up abruptly, throwing off most of her blankets.

“What?” she said, shuffling to the edge of the bed, closer to Jaskier at the door.  
“Julian Alfred Pankratz. But I changed my name, I prefer this.”  
“It suits you better. You sound really posh the other way.”  
“Thanks, my dear. But when I was younger, and by that I mean teenage me, I liked that I could associate my name with a character that was so flamboyant. I’d quote him a lot, and sometimes I still do.”  
“Can you do another one?”  
“Alright, then we’ll go have some breakfast, and _then_ we’ll watch the film.”

Jaskier stood up straighter, pushing his shoulders back and preparing to mimic the voice of King Julien.

“I do not like that lion, Maurice. He gives me the heebedie-jeebedies.”

Ciri laughed loudly at that, finally getting out of bed properly and putting on her dressing gown ready for breakfast with a spring in her step.

***

To say that Geralt had not expected the scene he came home to would be an understatement. Ciri was jumping around singing “I like to move it, move it” at the top of her lungs whilst Jaskier was lying on the sofa staring at the ceiling. There was no explanation as to why this was happening that Geralt could think of, so that meant he’d have to ask.

“What happened?”  
“Jaskier showed me the film Madagascar and it was great! King Julien is my favourite and he sings this song!” Ciri replied, still bouncing around.  
“And why does Jaskier look like he’s having an existential crisis?”  
“He found out that a quote he kept saying from the film isn’t actually in the film.”  
“I could have _sworn_ that he said ‘I don’t like that lion Maurice’. But Maurice is the one that says something about having heebie-jeebies,” Jaskier lamented from the sofa, gesturing wildly with his arms.  
“I’ll pretend to know what you’re talking about.”  
“My whole life is a lie, Geralt.”

Geralt hummed, placing his work bag down by the door. He could tell by the chaos he was currently witnessing that they had not started dinner today, so he made the executive decision to leave them to it whilst he started cooking. But he had to admit, coming home to a happy house, even if it was loud, made him feel… something. A good something, but not one he wanted to dwell on. This was temporary after all.

Wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's quote related crisis is 100% based off of something that we went through this summer. We are still bamboozled, and after making the connection between Jaskier and King Julien, I decided that it had to be included in this fic


	6. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the writing process goes whilst I'm home from uni with my mum: Me: gotta write Mum: ooh crafts, ooh catching up with shows we watch together, ooh have to give my baby constant affection Me: But mother, the writing, mother...
> 
> Please take this as an excuse for not keeping up with the posting schedule I promised. I'm enjoying being home whilst simultaneously being prevented from writing. I hope the chapters themselves make up for the wait though!

Typical. Abso-bloody-lutely typical.

Of course, Jaskier’s car would be involved in an accident the day before he really really really needs it.

He’d gone into town to get some new clothes for his meeting with the head of a record label tomorrow, but when he’d returned to the car park, he’d found the entire front of his car battered, and no sign of the perpetrator, except for a note saying “sorry :/” placed under his windscreen wiper.

This wasn’t just bad; this was extremely, terribly, horribly not good. It was a disaster. It was a _fucking nightmare_.

Feeling the panic rising through him, Jaskier had no clue what to do other than sit on the concrete by his car and cry. Or scream. Or throw something. But none of those were particularly viable options, were they?

Without really thinking it through, Jaskier fished his phone out of his pocket and called the only person he could think of.

“Jaskier,” came Geralt’s gravely voice through the phone barely seconds after it started ringing, despite what sounded like metal clanging in the background.  
“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed. “Someone hit my car. I have an important meeting tomorrow and it’s early I can’t get the train, and there’s not enough time to get my car fixed, and without this meeting I probably won’t even be able to afford to fix it. The idiot didn’t even leave their number plate or any phone number to help me sort out insurance, it’s going to be terrible. And I can’t even get home from town.”  
There was a low rumble from Geralt as the background noise faded away. “Ok, take a breath. Simplify the problem for me.”  
“My car got hit, but I need it for a super important meeting tomorrow. I don’t know what to do.”  
“I’ll take you to your meeting.”  
“Really?” That shocked Jaskier into a temporary silence. He’d only expected to be able to rant to Geralt, not get any solutions from him.  
“Yes. Where are you now?”  
“I’m in town, on the top floor of the multi-storey carpark.”  
“Ok. I’m coming.”  
“Wait, but what about my car?”

A world-weary sigh whooshed through the phone speaker and Jaskier felt like he was missing something important, but couldn’t figure out what.

“I work in a garage. I’ll fix your car.”

And that’s when Jaskier’s brain short circuited. The image of Geralt in a tank top, muscled arms on display, covered in oil and grease, and with his hair all messed up was too much. He could hear Geralt say that he was leaving and would be there soon, but he was incapable of responding properly, resolving himself to pull himself to together again before Geralt arrived.

However, when Geralt pulled up and stepped out into the warm, late-May sunshine in what felt like slow motion and wiped some sweat off of his forehead using a rag from the pocket of his overalls, which were tied low on his hips, all that mental preparation Jaskier had done went flying out the window. He felt a bit faint as his knees buckled. Honestly, _fuck_ climate change for making it this hot in _May_ and for putting Jaskier in the position of thirsting over someone who was just trying to help.

One of Geralt’s hums pulled Jaskier out of his reverie as he looked at the mess that was Jaskier and his car.

“It looks bad,” Geralt said, clearly in work mode seeing as he didn’t greet Jaskier _at all._ Rude. “But it’s not terrible. I won’t know the full damage until it’s in the shop but it’s not unfixable.”  
Jaskier felt all the tension from his body flood out. Well, all except the tension caused by the very sexy mechanic who was stood in front of him. “Ok, that’s good. No need to buy a new car yet.”  
“No, not yet.”

A small smile creeped up on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier’s heart melted a little bit more for this Adonis of a man with the secret soft side.

***

When they arrived at the garage, they were met by yells from all over the shop, welcoming Geralt back. Jaskier recognised the two brothers from Ciri’s birthday, but there was also an older man sat in the office on the other end of the shop he was sure he hadn't seen before.

“I didn’t hear us get a call,” one of the brother’s said, placing his tools down.  
“I’m helping,” Geralt replied, providing no explanation.  
“Who could you possibly be helping?” The other brother called over. “Yen and Triss are out of town. You don’t know anyone else.”  
“Wait! Is this the musician you’re always talking about?”  
“I don’t-” Geralt tried to protest, but the first brother’s laughter cuts him off.  
“It is! Is he going to run away again this time?”  
“Lambert-”  
“You talk about me?” Jaskier interrupted, not wanting to let that slip.  
“Ciri does.”  
“Bullshit!” Lambert yelled. “Ciri does too but we don’t work with Ciri all day. We only see her for a couple of hours after school. Anyway, hi, I’m Lambert, this is Eskel,” he gestured to the quieter man, “you’re Jaskier the Musician.”  
“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed. “Why don’t you go sit in the waiting area with Ciri until we can take you home?”  
“Sure. But don’t think I’m going to forget about this.” Jaskier winked as he walked to the room next to the office, spotting Ciri’s head of blonde hair through the window.

As he entered, Ciri greeted Jaskier just as enthusiastically as she usually did before sitting back down to keep doing homework. With not much else to do, Jaskier sat beside her and looked out the window at the shop, unapologetically ogling Geralt as he worked.

The intense look of concentration on Geralt’s face was different from his usual glowers, but no less beautiful. There was a glint in his eye from what Jaskier could only assume was him doing something he loved. That along with the way his muscles moved with the effort of the work had Jaskier completely mesmerised, to the point where he didn’t notice Ciri watching him.

“Dad misses you being at ours every evening when we get in,” she said with no warning.  
“Does he?” Jaskier was once again surprised by what he was hearing. “He never said anything.”  
“He hasn’t _told_ me. But he seems a bit sad. And he says it’s too quiet now. I can tell what that means.”  
Jaskier didn’t know how to respond to that. “Yeah?”  
“Mhm. You’re his friend. He doesn’t have many. And you spent so much time together over Easter that it’s weird now to not see you all the time… I miss you too…”  
“Aw Ciri,” he reached out to Ciri and put his arm around her shoulder. “I miss spending time with both of you too, but it’s harder now.”  
“Doesn’t have to be,” she pouted. “Are your days still quiet?”  
“Relatively. Why are you asking?”  
“I have to come here every day after school. Maybe if you looked after me after school like in the holidays, even only some days a week, then it wouldn’t be so quiet anymore. And you could stay for dinner again and Dad can spend time with his friend and I can do my homework at home instead of here where it’s noisy.”  
“I don’t know, Ciri.”  
“Oh please! You can do your music stuff at our house! It’s been a month and I haven’t seen you!”

This was a difficult situation, and definitely not a conversation to have without Geralt present. How was Jaskier supposed to answer these questions? He wanted to cave and say yes to Ciri, just to make her smile again now that she’d started pulling a face that more resembled her dad, but would it really work? Ciri might think this was a good idea, but would Geralt think so? Would Ciri get bored of him if it became a regular thing rather than a temporary solution?

“How about you suggest it to your dad first, then we’ll see,” he tried to answer diplomatically.  
“That was a non-answer, but ok,” Ciri huffed. “Dad does that a lot.”  
“It wasn’t a non-answer technically, but this is something that should be discussed with him.”  
A beat of silence passed as Ciri thought about that. “Ok. You can go back to watching him now if you want.”  
Jaskier nearly choked on air at that. _She’d noticed?!_ To quote Geralt, _fuck_. “I wasn’t-” Ciri raised her eyebrow without looking back up at him from her homework. “Just, do your homework.”

Eventually, Geralt came to get Jaskier and Ciri, ready to take them home. As they got to the car, and Ciri hoped in, Jaskier's resolve crumbled as he got another eyeful of Geralt’s muscles flexing to close the boot of the car on his work bag.

“Can I just say the dirty mechanic look works well for you,” he blurted. “Very sexy.”  
“Get in the car, Jaskier.”  
“Yep, going.”


	7. June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one today lads. Posting the middle month of the year on the day I hoped to have this finished... Hopefully you'll all still be feeling festive once we reach the second December (eventually)

Jaskier had been doing the afternoon school run for Geralt for about 2 weeks now. It had been… interesting. He’d spoken to a few of the other parents so that he didn’t feel like he stood out quite as much, and he felt confident that he could recognise most of the parents from Ciri’s class by face, even if their names slipped his mind.

But today there was someone new, a face he didn’t recognise. He knew that sometimes parenting situations got a little bit complicated, or sometimes a parent would come pick up their kid instead of the childminder for once, but that didn’t stop him being curious about why this new stranger was here.

“Hi,” he said, leaning over to her. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, I’m Jaskier.”

The woman glanced over at him, her violet eyes blank and an eyebrow raised at him. She said nothing, turning back to the school gates to watch for when the kids all came running out. Well then.

“Sorry, I’m still new to the school run,” Jaskier continued to babble. “Helping my friend out. I’m trying to make friends with some other parents too.”

Again, nothing. Rude.

“Who are you here to collect?” He tried. Parents love talking about their children, right? “I’m here for Ciri. Maybe they’re in the same class?”

At that, she looked back over at Jaskier, this time actually taking him in. There was something in her expression that unsettled Jaskier, and as the corner of her mouth ticked up briefly, he wondered what it was she found so amusing.

“If you’re here to pick up Ciri, you’re not needed,” she stated, providing no further explanation.  
“I’m sorry?” Jaskier practically squawked.  
“I was wondering where Geralt was today, or one of the others. Imagine my astonishment when I find out the entertainer from Ciri’s birthday is now her babysitter.”  
Feeling his hackles rise at the implications behind those words, that he was just working for Geralt not a friend to the little family, Jaskier wracked his brains as to who this could be. “Geralt didn’t mention someone else was going to collect Ciri today.”  
“That’s because he doesn’t know. It was supposed to be a surprise that I’d be coming to visit them for the weekend.”

Eventually, Jaskier remembered the name of one of the only women Geralt had ever mentioned, and he put together the dots.

“Yennefer, I presume,” he sighed, still feeling tense. “Tell me, what makes you think you can just turn up unannounced when you cancel on them when they need you most?”  
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t go making assumptions about my relationship with Geralt and Ciri, you’ll end up looking like more of a fool than you already do.”

Working himself into a right flap, the only thing that stopped him from going off on one was the sudden appearance of the school children and the streak of blonde hair running towards him. But almost as soon as he got an armful of Ciri, she stopped hugging him and squealed.

“Auntie Yen!”  
“Hello, Cub,” she greeted, looking softer now.  
“This is Dad’s friend Jaskier. He’s been looking after me.”  
“Pleasure.”

Yennefer held out her hand to Jaskier for him to shake, and for Ciri’s benefit, he tried not to scowl too hard. He expected that his face was more like a grimace than the pleasant smile he'd been aiming, though Ciri had the decency to not comment on it.

“Well,” Yennefer broke the tense silence. “Maybe Jaskier can take the day off today since I’m here now?”

Ciri contemplated that, but looked a little sad at the idea. She attached herself once more to Jaskier, arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

“I’ll see you on Monday?” She said, voiced muffled by his shirt.  
“Of course! But I’m sure you’ll have a brilliant time today. Tell your dad I said hi!”  
“I will! He’ll miss you.”  
“I’m sure you’ll both be having too much fun with Auntie Yen to miss me.”

Ciri’s little face scrunched up in disagreement, but she eventually let go of him and took Yennefer’s hand ready to go.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again, Jaskier.” Yennefer’s voice was dripping with amusement, and Jaskier couldn’t help but feel dread for the next time their paths would cross again.


	8. July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I stay up until almost 3am to write this? Yes. Is it the longest chapter yet? Probably. Will I be tired for Christmas Day? Definitely.
> 
> Will this chapter be any good however? Who knows.
> 
> Anyway, I hop you enjoy! And I wish those of you who celebrate a wonderful Christmas!

Every summer, over a long weekend, Geralt, his brothers, and Ciri would take a trip to the Peak District for some camping. It was the ideal time to relax and unwind and spend time with the ones he loved. The peace and quiet of the outdoors never failed to put him at ease, and let him relax.

The sound of a nearby river running, and birds twittering, the gentle breeze blowing through his hair and the sun on his skin…

“Geralt… _GerALT!_ Shit! There’s a wasp terrorising me! It won’t leave me alone!”

… And of course, Jaskier’s panicked screeching would ruin the serenity of everything.

It had been Ciri’s idea, to invite Jaskier to their annual camping trip as a thank you for looking after her since May. And Geralt couldn’t say no to that.

However, it turns out that Jaskier is _useless_ when it comes to the outdoors. He didn’t have a tent to use claiming that he did own one once, but it got trashed at a festival last summer, his “walking shoes” were a pair of ratty trainers that would definitely give him blisters, and he was terrified of insects.

If Geralt had known these things, he may have thought twice before agreeing to Ciri’s request. Probably. He had to admit, that despite the disasters so far, having Jaskier here was fun. His brothers definitely thought so.

Lambert cackled loudly as Jaskier stumbled over their camping equipment to try and escape the wasp. As he ran past Eskel, the other man squinted at the flying menace on his trail.

“That’s just a bee, not a wasp,” Eskel huffed, humour evident in his voice. “Nothing to be worried about. He’s probably just attracted to your bright shirt, Jaskier.”  
“ _Nothing to be worried about_?” Jaskier shrieked. “Easy for you to say! You’re not being chased by it! Wasp or bee, doesn’t matter. It will not leave me alone! It’s a striped devil who’s trying to sting me because I had the _audacity_ to wear a floral shirt!”  
“Is he always this dramatic?”

Trying to avoid too much fondness from showing on his face, Geralt nodded. Yes, Jaskier was always like this, but it provided an endless source of entertainment for them.

“I’m a performer darling,” Jaskier said, sitting down next to Geralt now that he’d finally escaped the bee. “It’s in my nature.”

With most of the day spent travelling and the tents all set up, it was time to settle down for the evening and start a campfire for dinner.

Despite his complete lack of any appropriate equipment for camping, Jaskier had come prepared with his guitar. He messed around with different songs before dinner, and once the food had been eaten, Ciri piped up with a request.

“Can you sing some of your own songs?” she asked. “I’ve heard you writing them whilst I do homework.”  
Jaskier blinked in surprise at that, but a smile quickly settled on his face. “I’m afraid the ones I’m working on right now aren’t quite done but I have plenty more original material I can play for you! Let’s see…”

The song Jaskier chose to play wasn’t one that he’d sung to them before, at least as far as Geralt was concerned. It was impressive how he seemed to be able to remember the words and the guitar part to so many songs. Geralt supposed it was like how he knew all the different parts to a car and could hear a vehicles engine run and immediately know not just what the problem was but also how to fix it.

But this wasn’t like fixing cars. Jaskier _wrote_ these songs. Created them from scratch and put so much emotion into it. Despite knowing the man for 7 months now, Geralt was no closer to understanding how Jaskier could be so free with his emotions. His family had never been particularly good with feelings, but as Geralt sat around the fire, the sun slowly setting, surrounded by some of his most treasured people, with Jaskier’s voice providing a comforting backing, Geralt knew that he felt content.

Eventually, Ciri started to yawn, her little fist rubbing at her eye.

“I think the little one has the right idea,” Lambert said. “Time for bed.”  
“’m not tired,” Ciri complained.  
“Of course not.” Jaskier stood and stretched. “But I am! We should definitely all go to bed.”  
“Ok.”  
“Speaking of, have we figured out what to do since I don’t have a tent?”

Lambert and Eskel both scoffed again in the background as they started to enter their own tents.

“There’s space in our tent,” Geralt said, unzipping their doorway. “You’ll have to share my compartment though.”  
“Cool cool cool,” Jaskier nodded, his head moving far too quickly. “I’ll just… grab my stuff from the car.”

Jaskier dithered for a moment before going to grab his stuff. Geralt heard one of his brothers (probably Lambert) snort from behind him despite the complete lack of anything humorous.

“What’s funny?” he asked.  
“Oh nothing,” Lambert lied. “Just an interesting reaction he had there.”

Was it? Geralt hadn’t noticed. Maybe he was just used Jaskier being… well, Jaskier, and they weren’t.

“That’s just Jaskier, nothing weird,” Geralt clarified.  
“Oh so he’s always like that?” Eskel commented, and Lambert laughed again.  
“Yes. And?”  
“Nothing, nothing,” Lambert practically wheezed. “Absolutely nothing. Sleep well Geralt!”  
“Hmm.”

***

By the time morning rolled around, Geralt was confused by the steady pressure pressed up against his side. Maybe Ciri had come in to him last night, it wasn’t unheard of. But when he opened his eyes, instead of his daughter, he saw Jaskier who must have rolled over to him in the night. His sleeping bag was half unzipped and his limbs were thrown about all over the place, yet somehow, he was still asleep despite what was most undoubtedly an uncomfortable position.

When trying to dislodge himself without disturbing Jaskier, Geralt’s hand brushed the bare skin of Jaskier’s arm. He was freezing and would undoubtedly wake up grumpy and complaining about it. Frowning, Geralt reached for his bag and grabbed a jumper and gently laid it on top of Jaskier’s torso like an extra blanket. Hopefully that would help.

Eventually, Geralt escaped to the outside, and he set up the camping stove rather than the fire to cook some breakfast for when everyone else woke up. Eskel was next to rise, but he didn’t look happy about it.

“You don’t look like you slept well,” Geralt observed.  
“I could hear Lambert’s snoring even though we weren’t sharing the same tent. He’s too fucking loud. I’m surprised you didn’t hear him.”  
“Smother him next time, that’ll solve all your problems.”  
“No one is smothering me!” Lambert called as he almost stumbled out of his tent. “Anyway, you’d all miss me too much.”  
“Hmm.”  
“Oh fuck off, Geralt.”

Lambert started laughing again, setting the other two off, and not long after that, Ciri came out, looking refreshed and ready for the day. When Jaskier followed about half an hour later, he did not look the same. His hair was a mess and he had the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes. To top it all off, he was now _wearing_ Geralt’s jumper.

“I’m keeping this today,” Jaskier said in lieu of a greeting. “It’s cold.”

He was right, it was cold _er_ today, if not properly cold. The sun from the previous day was now hidden behind large grey clouds and the light breeze had turned into more of a brisk wind.

Typical British summer time.

“Wait,” Lambert said, looking up from his tea. “Is Jaskier wearing your jumper?”  
“He was cold this morning. It was an extra blanket.” Geralt couldn’t see why Lambert was once again making a big deal out of something that wasn’t important.  
“The plot thickens,” Lambert whispered to Eskel, but Geralt still heard him. What plot? This was starting to get annoying.

Thankfully, there were no more strange moments from the brothers for the rest of the morning, and eventually they all got ready for the walk they were going to take that day, each of them making sure to pack a raincoat for the inevitable downpour.

“Ok then, see you later,” Lambert said, about to leave in the opposite direction than they were planning to go in.  
“What?”  
“Oh, we were going to go and do a more difficult trail instead. We’ve done the easy one so many times, but you’ve got the one without proper walking shoes and a shorter pair of legs so you’ll definitely have to do that one. I’m sure you’ll all have a nice time just the three of you anyway.”  
“Ugh, fine, see you when we get back.”

As the two groups went their separate ways, Geralt found that despite his initial disappointment at not having everyone together, he was still having a good time just the three of them. It was something he’d gotten surprisingly used to recently: spending time with his daughter and the musician. No, his friend.

His best friend?

Maybe that was right. He certainly felt closer to Jaskier than he had to his other friends. Although, his other friends were made up of his brothers, his ex and his ex’s new partner, so it shouldn’t be surprising that Geralt felt this way.

The fact that Jaskier got on so well with Ciri certainly helped. They were walking slightly ahead of him so that he could keep both of them in his sights at all times, laughing and singing and chatting the entire way, occasionally directing certain conversation topics at Geralt too.

“Geralt,” Jaskier started. “Is it possible we were supposed to go right instead of left at that fork in the road? Only, I’ve not seen any of the trail posts in a while.”  
“We’re on the right path. I’ve walked this one since I was a boy.”

As Jaskier took a breath and squared his shoulders in a way that Geralt had learned to recognise as a sign that Jaskier was about to start singing, Geralt sighed.

“Now I turn around and find I am lost in the woods!”  
“We’re not lost, Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted.  
“Sure,” Jaskier responded before he continued singing. “North is south, right is left, when you’re gone!”  
“Jaskier.”  
“I’m the one that sees you home, but now I’m lost in the woods, and I don’t know what path you are on… Lost in the woods!”  
“Are you done?”  
“With the chorus yes, I could continue if you’d like?”  
“Please don’t.”  
“Roger that.”

Despite the prompt not to continue with the singing, Jaskier hummed the tune for the next couple of minutes as they continued down the path, eventually reaching the bridge where they needed to cross the river.

“See?” Geralt said. “Not lost, the rest of the trail is just over this bridge.”

Ciri gasped at that, and once again, Geralt was lost in the conversation (but definitely not in the woods).

“This magical bridge!” She exclaimed as they started to cross. “Of hope and wonder!”

Oh no. He recognised this from somewhere. What was this, and why was his daughter referencing it?

“What?”  
“Careful you don’t get a splinter, Dad.”  
“Geeeeraaaaaalt,” Jaskier crooned, joining in with this obscure moment. “Geeeeeeeeraaaaaaaaalt… Geeeeeee-”  
“What do you want? I’m right here!”  
“We’re on a bridge Geralt!”

Fuck. He definitely knew what this was. Eskel and Lambert had found these strange videos on the internet in their early adulthood, and had quoted them all the time, claiming Geralt was just like the grumpy white unicorn… what was his name again?

“Sorry,” Jaskier laughed as they finally got off the bridge. “I showed Ciri Charlie the Unicorn the other week when she asked what kind of videos I used to watch when I was younger.”

Charlie the fucking Unicorn. Fucking fantastic.

“You know,” Jaskier began again, and Geralt really didn’t want to know what he was going to say. “The similarities between you and Charlie are remarkable.”  
“Absolutely not,” Geralt snapped, wincing slightly when Ciri turned around looking concerned.  
“Oh so you know of this video?”  
“No.”  
“I’m on to you, Geralt.”

After that strange exchange, the walk continued uneventfully. The rain started and everyone donned their raincoats, but nothing too dramatic happened. Until they finally neared the end of their route. The end was in sight. Across the river was a hill, and over that hill was their campsite. Just a few more minutes and they’d be done for the day, and they could all relax.

At least that was what Geralt had thought.

The crossing over the river here wasn’t a bridge (thankfully, he didn’t want a repeat of a few hours ago), it was a fallen tree. Over the years they had walked this route, this had never caused any problems. Of course, this year that would be different.

Geralt had made the mistake of leaving Jaskier unsupervised. As Ciri crossed, Geralt climbed up behind her, offering a hand whenever she wobbled and instead of waiting so that Geralt would help him too, Jaskier also got up.

He took a few steps along the log before promptly slipping and falling into the river below, all before Geralt had even processed what was going on. He heard the splash and half a yell from Jaskier and whipped around, almost losing his own balance and tumbling straight in after him.

“Fuck-” he cursed, quickly hoping onto the bank. “Jaskier!”  
“Dad!” Ciri cried. “Get him!”  
“I’m fine,” Jaskier spluttered. “It’s not too deep. And nothing sharp down here to hurt.”  
“Jaskier,” Geralt tried again. “Please, swim over to this side and I’ll help you out.”

Splashing more than swimming over, Jaskier managed to make it out of the river without too much harm being done.

“See?” Jaskier held his arms out wide for Geralt and Ciri to inspect him. “All good.”  
“You’re soaked,” Geralt replied. “You’ll get a chill. We need to get you back.”

Before Jaskier could protest, Geralt gently wrapped a hand around his arm and pulled him up and over the hill and back to their tents before almost shoving him into the tent to get some dry clothes. Whilst Jaskier was changing, Eskel and Lambert also returned.

“Wow,” Eskel said. “You look murderous. What happened?”  
“Jaskier fell in the lake,” Ciri responded for her dad. “He’s really soggy. He can’t get ill.”  
“And the rain means the wood is all to wet to burn,” Geralt filled in.  
“Just wrap him up in layers for now, and then when you go to sleep, zip your sleeping bags together so you can chare body heat,” Lambert stated as if it were obvious. “You are like a furnace.”  
“Hmm.”

Despite Geralt’s protests, if ‘hmm’s can be counted as protests, when it came time to sleep again, he did as Lambert suggested and zipped their sleeping bags together.

“Wait,” Jaskier froze as he entered their compartment, “what’s this?”  
“You’re still way too cold. It’s not safe. We’ll share so you can be warmer.”

When all Geralt got was silence instead of an answer, he looked up and saw Jaskier gaping at him. Somehow, Geralt had rendered him speechless.

“Problem?”  
“No, absolutely not, nothing wrong here. Just two best friends. Sharing a sleeping bag. Because I was an idiot.”  
“That about sums it up, yes.”  
“Oi you, none of that.”

Laughing as he came further into their compartment, Jaskier lightly swatted at Geralt’s arm before getting into the sleeping bag.

“Alright then, lets sleep.”

***

Once again, when Geralt awoke, there was an unfamiliar presence next to him. Except instead of just being next to him, this morning his body was intertwined with the other, legs tangled and his arm around the other’s waist. Also unlike the first morning, he immediately knew this was Jaskier rather than Ciri. Despite being unused to being so close to another body in the night now, Geralt felt well rested and dare he say, quite cosy.

The only issue was, he definitely would not be able to get up without disturbing Jaskier today. So he would have to wait.

He heard his brothers get up and voice their confusion at the distinct lack of Geralt, and eventually, he also heard Ciri unzip her compartment. Instead of going straight outside, she poked her head around Geralt and Jaskier’s door flap. She took in the sight of the two of them practically snuggled together before breaking out into a wide smile.

“Dad,” she tried to whisper. “Is Jaskier still asleep?”  
“Mhm.”  
“But we have stuff to do today! Can I wake him up?”  
“Uhhhh…”

Ciri didn’t need to wait for an answer before she basically launched herself onto Jaskier, earning a pained “oof” from him for her efforts.

“Wakey wakey, Jaskier! Rise and shining!”  
“Don’t quote King Julian at me,” Jaskier mumbled. “That shouldn’t be allowed.”  
“Get up!!!”  
“5 more minutes.”  
“No! You need to wake up now!  
“Ok, ok. I’m up.”

Extricating himself from Geralt, Jaskier sat up, apparently not even processing that they had been cuddling the night before. In time, they all exited the tent together, and Lambert was giving Geralt a look that he decided not to pay attention to.

“Oh my god,” he chuckled, leaning in to Eskel. “Wait until Yennefer hears.”

Getting ready for the day, Geralt also elected to ignore that. After all, it was their last proper day on holiday and he wanted to enjoy this time while it lasted, even if his brothers were being difficult.


	9. August

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one this time. I had to refrain myself from ranting even more about the Back to School rush, because it sucks so bad. Instead, I have provided the usual cuteness, I hope you enjoy!

“Jaskier,” Ciri called from where she was dangling upside-down on the sofa.  
“Yes, Pumpkin?” he replied.  
“Dad hasn’t had time to go with me to get back-to-school supplies. Can you take me?”  
“Of course, what do you need?”

Tumbling off the sofa, Ciri scrambled up and ran to her bedroom. While he waited, Jaskier went back to making lunch for the both of them. If they were going out shopping, they’d need all the energy they could get. When Ciri came back, she was holding her school bag in her arms.

“Auntie Yen took me to get new school shoes last week but we didn’t get everything else,” she said. Jaskier had already heard the story of the shoe shopping adventure, and whilst it made him feel less animosity towards Yennefer, after all these months he still struggled to completely put things behind him. Although without Yennefer cancelling in March, he probably wouldn’t be here right now, and Jaskier wouldn’t want to change that for the world.

“I need a new back pack, the strap on this one is nearly broken.”  
“Sure,” Jaskier nodded. “Anything else?”  
“A pencil case? And pens, I will have to write more now I’m going to big school.”  
Jaskier gasped loudly. “You are, aren’t you?! This just became a much more crucial mission! We will leave at once!”  
“But lunch,” Ciri giggled, pointing back at the half-made sandwiches on the kitchen work surface.  
“We’ll eat in the car! Onwards!”

***

Geralt’s return home from work was met by hyperactive bouncing from Ciri, and an exhausted grunt from Jaskier. It was the lack of words from the musician that put him on edge.

“Dad! Dad! Dad! Look at the backpack Jaskier got me for school!”

Before he had time to process that statement, a pink and purple sparkly monstrosity was pushed in his face. It was certainly different to her last bag that was for sure.

“It’s bright,” he said for lack of other words.  
“Yes! And it came with a pencil case too, and we bought some pens to go in it and there’s space in it for my coloured pencils too. We didn’t get a new lunchbox because the one I have is ok, but the My Little Ponies go well with the sparkles, don’t you think?”  
“Oh yes, definitely.”  
“And we got ice cream because it’s summer, and we watched Moana when we got home but Jaskier isn’t singing along like normal because he’s tired.”  
“Geralt,” Jaskier cut into Ciri’s recollection of the day. “Why did no one ever warn me how chaotic shopping was during the back-to-school rush?”

Ah, that would explain it. Usually, Geralt tried to beat the rush for his own sanity, but they hadn’t managed to this year. Instead, Jaskier had been the one to deal with the masses of parents who had left everything until the last minute.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Geralt said, feeling a tingle of guilt in the back of his mind.  
“Ciri asked.”  
“Did she also ask for the sparkly backpack or was that your idea?”

Jaskier’s head poked up over the back of the sofa, and Geralt finally got a look at him. His brown hair was rumpled from where he had been curled up on the sofa, and he had a ridge pressed into his face from an awkwardly placed cushion. He looked soft.

“Why don’t we make dinner whilst Ciri finishes the film?” he asked, and Geralt could tell by the hint of annoyance in his voice that Jaskier had taken issue with something he’d said. Fuck. He didn’t want to upset him.

As they entered the kitchen, Jaskier turned his gaze on Geralt, away from Ciri and the TV.

“Was that judgment I heard in your voice about the backpack, Geralt?” he said. Geralt could feel this was a trap, but he didn’t know how to answer to avoid it.  
“No,” Geralt lied. “It’s just not as practical as one I would have gotten her.”  
Jaskier sighed. “She’s 11. Practicality isn’t on the top of her list.”  
“Hmm.”  
“No, don’t hmm at me.” Jaskier retrieved some vegetables from the fridge to start cooking whilst they talked. “She is an 11-year-old girl, starting a new school. At that age, having a cool backpack to impress your new friends with is more important than whether or not it’s particularly functional. Ciri liked the sparkles, so I got her the backpack with the sparkles.”

Geralt didn’t know how to respond to that. Without a doubt, Jaskier was right. It wasn’t something that Geralt had thought of. He’d always been so caught up in getting things for Ciri that would last a long time, especially with all the wear and tear that came from having a child as adventurous as she was, that he sometimes forgot that maybe something that was more … _fun_ would be preferred. But he couldn’t exactly tell Jaskier that he’d been right, it would go to his head.

“At least let me pay you back for it,” Geralt rumbled.  
“Absolutely not,” Jaskier half yelled. “It’s my treat.”  
“You’re the one who always complains about money issues from your job.”  
“Oh, did I not mention? That meeting I went to in May, was a total success and I’m developing an actual album with them. Earning proper money and everything.”

Well, that had shocked Geralt. It seemed unlikely that Jaskier had failed to mention something as big as this, was it possible Geralt had forgotten?

“Oh wait, shit!” Jaskier cursed. “I wasn’t mentioning anything, whoops. I wanted it to be a surprise for you and Ciri once the album was released. We first met through my music, I thought it might be nice, sentimental even, to wait. I should have known I’d blab about it before then.”

So, he hadn’t forgotten. Good. That would have been a really bad thing to forget.

“I won’t tell Ciri,” he said, sending a smirk to Jaskier.  
Jaskier gaped at him in a way that Geralt knew was overexaggerated for the drama. “You’d keep a secret from your daughter for _me_? So that I can surprise her? Oh Geralt, I may swoon.”  
“Don’t. I won’t catch you.”  
“And you were doing so well,” Jaskier nudged him with his elbow. “Also, you’re lying, I know you’d catch me.”

Jaskier was right again. Of course Geralt would catch him. He’d always catch him. Not that Jaskier needed to know that. But Geralt had the feeling that maybe, without him ever having to say anything, Jaskier knew.


	10. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. Sorry for the delay, things happened and I couldn't bring myself to write. I hope this more than makes up for it, it was certainly a fun one to write! Not too long to go until the end now!

Geralt was running late. They hadn’t met up many times outside of Jaskier looking after Ciri, but it had happened enough now that Jaskier knew that Geralt was never later if it could be helped. Which left Jaskier to wonder, had something bad happened?

They’d arranged a night at the pub since Ciri was having a sleepover at her new friend Dara’s house and Jaskier had recently discovered that Geralt was a little bit listless without his daughter around. Hence why he’d suggested an evening out. But now Geralt was late, and that did not bode well.

He had almost finished with the pint he’d ordered whilst he was waiting when he finally got a text from Geralt.

From: Sexy Snowman 😉  
Sorry I’m running late. It’s Ciri’s first sleepover in ages, she’s nervous, took a while to get her out of the house in the end. Got home to get ready to leave, then she called saying she forgot her teddy. Just dropping it off now then I’ll be there.

To: Sexy Snowman 😉  
No worries!! I’ll order another drink while I wait

As he finished off the final mouthful of his first drink, Jaskier did what he told Geralt he’d do and ordered another, as well as one for Geralt for when he arrived. He watched people come and go, and tapped out rhythms on the slightly sticky table along to music he could faintly hear in the background.

By the time Geralt pushed through the door of the pub and found the table Jaskier was sat at, Jaskier was over half way through his second drink and as he greeted Geralt, a small voice in the back of his head commented on how gorgeous Geralt looked with his hair tied back like that instead of the half up half down style Jaskier usually saw

“Geralt!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide and almost hitting a nearby waitress. “Ciri all sorted now?”  
Geralt nodded, sitting down next to Jaskier. “Once she got there and had everything it’s like she couldn’t wait to get rid of me. She’s very excited now.”  
“That’s good! Now, drink, you have to catch up with me.”

Rolling his eyes and with a hint of a smile on his face, Geralt picked up his glass and drank most of it in one go, head tipped back. As Jaskier watched, he felt words start to exit his mouth without his permission. Now, he knew that he didn’t have a very good filter in the first place, but once alcohol was involved, getting Jaskier to shut up became very difficult.

“You have the most incredible neck,” he said, already feeling the embarrassment climb up his spine. “Like a sexy goose.”

Mouth still full, Geralt turned to Jaskier with his eyes squinted in what Jaskier could only assume was judgement.

“Does that line usually work on people?” Geralt rumbled. “Because that was terrible.”  
“I don’t know,” Jaskier replied, feeling some of his bravado return. “Is it working?”

Geralt turned to look at him, eyebrow raised and took in Jaskier’s outfit for the evening. He had spent far too long deciding what to wear for their outing and had felt stupid afterwards because it wasn’t like he was trying to impress Geralt, was he? But now that Geralt was paying attention and didn’t look displeased, Jaskier felt glad he had put in the effort.

When the only response he got to his question was Geralt humming though, Jaskier once again felt very unsure of himself.

“Don’t you ‘hmm’ me, good sir. That’s not an answer!”

Smirking to himself, Geralt flagged down one of the waitresses for their next round, but didn’t say anything else to answer Jaskier.

“Geraaaaaaalt,” Jaskier whined. “Is it a yes or a no?”

Thinking harder on it, Jaskier would have thought it was his yes hmm, but it could have been a trick of the ear. And anyway, what would it mean if it was a yes? Did Jaskier want Geralt to be receptive to his flirting? Did he want to flirt more seriously with Geralt instead of the base level everyone got?

As the silence dragged on, Jaskier huffed once more.

“Fine, stay silent, I don’t want to know anyway.”  
“Yes you do.”  
“I do _not_! I’ll let you keep your secrets. For now.”

As the waitress returned to their table again, Jaskier continued to consider this turn of events. He found Geralt attractive, had since the start, but that was nothing new. He made friends with pretty people a lot and continued to flirt with them throughout the length of their friendship, but he never felt this put out when he felt like it hadn’t worked. Because it was never serious. Therefore, there really was only one conclusion to draw from this, and it’s a wonder he hadn’t realised sooner.

Jaskier had developed more than platonic feelings for Geralt. Buggering hell. He needed more alcohol to deal with that. And maybe a moment to breathe in peace without Geralt’s magnificent eyes on him.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he started, standing from the table. “I must go powder my nose.”  
“Jaskier, you’re not a Victorian woman.” If Jaskier didn’t know any better, he’d think Geralt was almost giggling at that.  
“And? It’s a fun phrase.”

Now Geralt was definitely laughing, small and quiet, and Jaskier swore internally. How could a man who was usually so gruff and intimidating look _cute_? The answer was obvious. Jaskier was smitten, that’s why. Definitely time to escape and reel his thoughts in before he embarrassed himself.

With one last look at Geralt, Jaskier rushed off, pushing through the ever-growing crowds to the bathrooms at the back of the building.

***

Roaming the streets, Lambert and Eskel were looking for a pub to stop into for their Friday night tradition. As Eskel went to enter their usual, Lambert held out his arm and barred his entry.

“What the fuck, Lambert?” he hissed.  
“No, no wait,” Lambert replied still not moving. “Geralt’s in there.”  
“Ok, let’s go say hi. It’s been a while since we all went to the pub together.”  
“ _No_ ,” Lambert still didn’t move. “He’s in there with Jaskier.”  
“And?”  
“What if they’re on a date?”

Eventually, Eskel found where Lambert was looking and saw Geralt chuckling at something as Jaskier stood there looking at him, eyes wide, and a vicious blush starting to creep up his face.

“He’d have told us if he was going on a date, right?” Eskel asked, watching Jaskier walk away from the table. “Maybe they’re just meeting up as friends.”  
“Sure, because friends blatantly check each other out.”

Sure enough, before Jaskier disappeared into the throng of people, Eskel saw Geralt looking him up and down, a small, barely noticeable smile on his face. Well then.

“Oh wait,” Lambert said, starting to laugh. “Maybe they _are_ meeting up as friends. I doubt Geralt realises what’s going on yet. He was still clueless during the trip, why would that have changed?”

Maybe Lambert was right. It was obvious that there was something going on between the two of them, but Geralt had never been particularly tuned in with emotions, even when they were kids.

“Fuck,” Lambert swore. “Run away, he’s looking in this direction.”  
“Why does it matter if her sees us?”  
“He’ll kill us if he thinks we’re spying on him.”  
“I mean we are.”  
“Not on purpose! Fucking run, Eskel. We’ll find somewhere else for tonight.”

As Geralt squinted, trying to get a better look at them through the grubby windows, Lambert and Eskel slowly backed away from the pub before Lambert broke into a small run, trying to flee the scene.

***

The room was spinning. Jaskier’s plan of drinking so he didn’t have to think about his feelings had backfired spectacularly. He could barely stand without feeling like the floor was about to give out from underneath him.

“Go on without me Geralt,” he sighed, dramatically placing a hand on his forehead. “I can’t move. You’ll have to leave me here.”  
“Stop being so melodramatic,” Geralt huffed, although there was definitely humour in his voice. Or was there? It was hard to tell in Jaskier’s current state of mind. “We have to go, the pub’s closing.”  
“Come and collect me in the morning. I’ll just sleep here.”  
“Jaskier, come on. We have to go home.”  
“I can’t. You’ll have to carry me.”

Instead of the witty comeback he’d been expecting from Geralt, Jaskier felt one of Geralt’s arms under his legs and the other snake around his back.

“What’re you doing?”  
“Carrying you.”  
“I didn’t mean literally!”  
“Hmm.”

Jaskier had not expected this outcome. At all. He was being carried by Geralt, like a groom would carry his bride over the threshold. Like a hero rescuing a damsel. Like something out of one of Jaskier’s dreams.

“You’re so strong,” he found himself saying without really thinking. One of the downsides of drinking copious amounts, other than losing the function of his legs, was that the last vestiges of his brain to mouth filter were gone. And he thought it had been bad earlier. “Your arms are so muscly. You don’t put them to good use enough, Geralt.”  
“… I work in a garage. Heavy lifting is part of my job, remember?”  
“Yes! How could I forget mechanic Geralt?! Mechanic Geralt is very sexy.”

Jaskier felt the vibrations of Geralt’s laugh through where his cheek was resting against Geralt’s broad chest. That was nice.

“Is he?”  
“Most definitely. He’s not my favourite Geralt though.”  
“No?”  
“No. My favourite Geralt is Dad Geralt. You’re so soft and kind. Buff men who are secret softies are the best.”  
“I’ll take your word for it.”

Jaskier managed to shut up for a few minutes, but that never lasts long. As he readjusted himself in Geralt’s arms, he found his face mushed into Geralt’s neck.

“Mmm, I like your neck,” he said, once again not keeping that thought to himself.  
“Hmm. Like a sexy goose.”

Gasping at that, Jaskier tried to shoot up, almost toppling out of Geralt’s arms. Geralt’s face hardened as he tried to get a better grip on Jaskier to prevent him from nearly falling again. This was all far too exciting.

“You remembered! Not my finest work, but it obviously left an impression.”  
“Hmm.”  
“Maybe it _is_ working.”  
“What’s working?”

Instead of answering, Jaskier started giggling uncontrollably.

“Just you wait, Mr Rivia,” Jaskier looked up at Geralt’s face, his features highlighted by the moon, “I’m going to charm the socks off of you.”  
“Are you?”  
“Yep.”  
“How about we just focus on getting you home first?”  
“I didn’t mean _now_. I can hardly expect my wooing to work when I’m a drunken mess.”  
“Of course not.”  
“Seriously, wait until I’m sober and you’ll hardly be able to resist me.”  
“I’m sure. Keys?”

Snapping back to reality for a moment, Jaskier noticed that the were now outside his building. He fished around in his pocket until he found his keys and then he jangled them in Geralt’s face.

Gently, Geralt placed Jaskier down, keeping one arm under his shoulders as support, so he could unlock the door. It took way too much effort to manoeuvre Jaskier through the door and up the stairs to his flat. Once through the second door Jaskier collapsed onto his sofa.

“No, come on,” Geralt prompted “Bed.”  
“But this is so comfyyyyyyy.”  
“Fine if you want to wake up feeling even worse.”  
“That is a future me problem. Now me says fuck you, future me. I’m comfy _now_.”  
“Suit yourself.”

Grabbing the blanket from the back of the sofa, Geralt placed it over Jaskier and adjusted the pillow under his head. He rummaged around in the kitchen and found a glass to fill with water and placed it on the coffee table, pausing on his way back out.

“Goodnight Jaskier,” he said, softly brushing a wayward piece of hair out of Jaskier’s face.  
“Mmm night,” Jaskier replied, already half asleep, but awake enough to feel the warmth of that touch spread throughout his body.

But now was not the time to dwell on it. Now was the time to sleep, and as he heard Geralt leave his flat, Jaskier drifted off into dreams filled with Geralt.


	11. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see... Major apologies folks, uni exams are a motivation sucking pain and even when they were done writing was not happening. But we're so close to the end now and I am determined to finish quickly!
> 
> Enjoy this Halloween chapter as a belated Valentine's gift from me to you!

After all this time, Geralt should be more prepared for returning home to chaos when he gets home from work, but when he entered the house on Halloween, he really hadn’t expected to come face to face with… this.

Ciri and Jaskier had decorated the flat with fake spiderwebs and other themed items, spooky music playing from the old CD player in the corner, but there was no sign of his daughter or his friend.

Geralt slowly walked further into the house, placing his work bag down, ears suddenly pricking up at the distant noise of Ciri’s bedroom door creaking open. He only had to wait a couple more seconds before Ciri leapt out at him yelling.

“BOO!”  
“Aah!” He pretended to be frightened, picking up Ciri for a quick hug. “You scared me, Princess.”  
“I know,” she giggled, wiggling out of his grasp. “I need to finish putting on my costume for Trick or Treating!”  
“For what? And where’s Jaskier?”  
“Getting changed!”

Hearing the commotion, Jaskier himself exited the downstairs bathroom looking _very_ different to how Geralt was used to seeing him.

“Evening Geralt,” he said, fixing a leather cuff around his wrist. “I’ve got a gig this evening so I won’t be staying for dinner. There is food for you and Ciri in the oven though, eat _before_ Trick or Treating, you’ll need the energy to keep up with her today.”

Jaskier was speaking, but Geralt was barely registering it, too busy taking in the outfit he was wearing. Boots with a slight heel on them that would make Jaskier the same height as Geralt, if not taller, tight leather trousers, a flowing black shirt unbuttoned way too low for it to be considered decent. His nails were painted a deep red, and several rings adorned his fingers. And to top it all off, his eyes were ringed with dark eyeliner, and fake blood ran down his chin from the corner of his lips.

It was miles away from the soft, yet still immaculately dressed image that Jaskier had every other day, but it suited him. A lot.

“You’re going to a gig dressed like that?” was all Geralt found himself capable of responding with.  
“Oh this? Well, it’s a Halloween gig, have to dress appropriately of course.”  
“You call that appropriate?”  
Jaskier laughed at that, deep and amused. “I am a little bit sexy tonight, aren’t I? I’ve got fangs too but I’ll put them in when I get there. Not that I can sing with them in. I love Halloween, it’s like Christmas for the gays, and I get to spend tonight surrounded by people who love this time of year as much as I do.”  
“You really do love every holiday, don’t you?”  
“Yes, but this one especially.”  
“Jaskier!” Ciri once again came bounding down the stairs loudly. “Can you do my nose and whiskers?”  
“Of course, sweetie. But then I have to go.”

She pouted at that but still sat down on the sofa ready to have Jaskier do her face paint. It was then that Geralt noticed the onesie she was wearing and the pair of ears on her head and realised she was supposed to be a cat. Watching the two interact, Geralt noticed, not for the first time, how gently Jaskier treated Ciri and how affectionate he was with her, how she was the centre of his focus. Something twinged in Geralt’s chest and he filed that away with the other emotions he didn't understand and wouldn't be dealing with any time soon.

“Now remember, don’t eat all your sweets at once,” he was saying to Ciri, smoothing down her hair. “As fun as it seems, your dad will kill me if you throw up from that much sugar or if you stay up too late because you’re hyper. But also, you want to save some of your sweets so they last longer!”  
“I know,” Ciri said. “I’m 11, I know not to eat all the sweets in one night.”  
“Good girl. Now remember, no matter how much he complains, you have to get your dad in the costume too, and take a picture for me. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Ciri nodded, giggling as Geralt’s stomach dropped. No one mentioned anything about him having to dress up. He didn’t have enough time to work up any annoyance at this before Jaskier was back in front of him.

“Ciri says this is your first time Trick or Treating, which is a crime, but don’t worry about it, only knock on doors with the lights on, try not to scowl at other parents, and keep an eye out for pesky teens playing tricks. I’ve left a costume in your room. Ciri picked it out for you so you could match. If there’s a way to get a picture of the two of you together in your costumes, please do it because I’m so sad to miss it.” He giggled slightly before reaching for his bag to leave. “Oh! And these are for you.”

Jaskier thrust out a bouquet of flowers to Geralt, his cheeks faintly pink under the pale powder on his face.

“They’re uh… for when you take down all the decorations, to make sure the room doesn’t feel empty. But also, they’re just a gift. For you.”

Swallowing all apparent embarrassment, Jaskier smiled brightly at him once more. He quickly hugged Ciri goodbye before forgoing his usual farewell to Geralt of a gentle slap on the arm to give him a brief kiss to the cheek instead, swanning out of the door before Geralt had the time to process it.

There was a fondness blossoming within Geralt as he put the flowers into some water, brushing his fingertips over where Jaskier had pressed his lips. He felt light as he walked to his bedroom, forgetting the dread he’d had about the costume. That was until he laid eyes on the monstrosity that was on his bed.

He was going to _murder_ Jaskier. Slowly. Painfully.

Laying there, was a witch costume. A hat, a broom, a dress.

Of course, he could just not wear it, but the idea of disappointing Ciri, disappointing _Jaskier_ , made Geralt feel uneasy.

At least the dress looked big enough that it would fit.

… _fuck it_ , he thought. As long as his brothers never see this, he’ll be fine.


	12. November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter?! So soon?! Shock horror! I've got the writing bug back now, so I'm feeling hopeful that we won't have another long break.
> 
> Also, just to be safe TW for brief mentions of bullying at school. Other than that, it's a very soft chapter once more. Enjoy!

The stern glare of the head teacher across the desk was starting to unnerve Jaskier. It had been a long time since he’d been on the receiving end of a look like that, and he’d hoped he had left them behind for good. And yet here he was.

“Mr Rivia, I presume,” she said.  
“Oh no,” Jaskier laughed nervously. “Although it does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Jaskier Rivia.” He only got more steely silence in response. “Sorry, I should have introduced myself, Julian Pankratz, I’m one of Ciri’s emergency contacts. I’d guess Geralt is out on a job if he didn’t pick up.”  
“I see. Did the receptionist tell you anything about why you’re here, Mr Pankratz?”  
“Only that Ciri had gotten into trouble and needed collecting. Now if you’d do me the pleasure of explaining, we can be on our way.”

The girl in question shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to him. Ciri had yet to meet his eyes since he’d arrived which told Jaskier all he needed to know. She _knew_ she was in trouble. But her face was set in the harsh lines of someone who was furious. There was likely more to this story.

“Alright then,” the headteacher sighed, lacing her fingers together in front of her. “Cirilla punched another student during the lunch break today. The student has apparently received verbal threats from her before, and today it got physical. We do not tolerate violence or bullying at this school, Mr Pankratz, so we will be sending her home for the rest of the week, and it will be going on her record.”  
“Ciri?” Jaskier turned to her, hoping to hear her side of it. This couldn’t be true. Her sharp intake of breath and the fire behind her eyes told him much more than the headteacher’s account did.  
“He lifted up my skirt!” she exclaimed loudly. “He shouldn’t do that, and he should know better! He’s been doing it to other girls, _and_ he’s been saying really horrible things, not just to girls, but to Dara too just because he’s different. I told him if he didn’t stop, I’d teach him a lesson. I did.”

Well then. That sounds more like Ciri.

It wasn’t hard for Jaskier to channel his inner parent in order to deal with this. He cared about Ciri an awful lot, but he had to try and not explode at this teacher, should he ruin the rest of Ciri’s school experience.

“And is this boy also being punished? You said you don’t tolerate bullying.”  
“No, I’m getting sent home because I punched him, but the most he’ll get is a detention," Ciri seethed. "Doesn’t matter what else he’s done. My word doesn’t count because I’m ‘the one who escalated the situation’.”  
“If that’s true,” Jaskier felt himself getting more annoyed by the second. “You’d better change how you are handling him. Geralt, Mr Rivia, _will_ be hearing about this, all of it, and I will be recommending that he files a formal complaint. What you are essentially doing is blaming the victim, and this is not acceptable. You can put on her record that she was defending herself and you still sent her home, whilst the actual perpetrator only got let off with a light warning. Whilst you’re at it, why don’t you just write down that you’re teaching young girls and boys to just accept it when someone takes advantage of them or says terrible things. Now, I will be taking Ciri home, and we will be keeping her at home for the rest of the week just like you want, but when she returns, if this boy hasn’t also been punished to the same level or higher, you will be feeling the repercussions of this injustice for a very long time. I will make sure of it.”

As the headteacher silently fumed, Jaskier took Ciri’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“The ball’s in your court now, headteacher. Come on my dear, let’s go.”

***

The car journey on the way back was painfully quiet, and Jaskier could feel the cogs turning in Ciri’s head, and the anxiety rolling off of her in waves.

“Are you mad?” she eventually said, quiet as anything.  
“Not at you. You stood up for yourself and others. I’m mad at your school.” Jaskier’s knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I suppose I should say that fighting is bad though. But I can’t blame you.”  
“Is dad going to be disappointed?”

That was a difficult question. Would he? Jaskier hadn’t had to see Geralt being a properly strict father, or dealing with the difficult parts of growing up. He doubted Geralt would be angry at Ciri, he’d likely feel the same rage to the school as Jaskier did, but further than that? He didn’t know.

“I don’t know, sweet pea,” Jaskier answered eventually. “I’ll talk to him though. Don’t worry about it. For now, you and me, we’re going to do something fun to cheer you up.”

She perked up at that, a small smile releasing the tension in her face.

When they got back to the house, Jaskier got some ice cream out of the freezer, despite the cold weather, and sat Ciri down in front of a film whilst he went to try and call Geralt again.

It rang and rang, the dial tone continuing for so long that Jaskier was sure he’d be taken to the answer machine, but eventually Geralt picked up the phone.

“Jaskier,” he said, a tone of desperation colouring his voice. “Why do I have 3 missed calls from the school and 15 more from you?”  
“Ah, well,” Jaskier started, already feeling his footing in the conversation slip away. “The school needed to contact you, but I’m guessing you were on a job?”  
“Hmm.”  
“Yep, and then they called me and, look, you’re probably going to have to do some serious parenting, but other than that, don’t panic. Ciri got into trouble for a bullshit reason.”  
“I think I’ll decide if it’s bullshit.”  
“Good point. Ok first thing, you have to promise not to come home mad, she’s worried about that. She punched a guy who lifted her skirt, and had been bullying Dara. They’ve suspended her for the rest of the week.”  
The line was quiet and Jaskier paced up and down the kitchen waiting for a response. “Did the other kid get in trouble too?”  
“Originally, no, or not severely enough. But I gave them a piece of my mind.”  
“Hmm.”  
“Don’t take that tone with me, it’s fucking ridiculous how they’re handling this. You’ll want to check in with them on Monday.”  
“Ok. Do I need to come home?”

Jaskier looked through the kitchen door into the front room to see Ciri wrapped up in her blanket, ice cream spoon hovering in the air as she was engrossed in the film.

“How busy is work?” he asked.  
“Very. The weather causes accidents,” Geralt grumbled.  
“Ok then, I’m handling it for now, I think. But maybe make sure you don’t stay too late.”  
“Mhm, I’ll leave when I can. But check Ciri’s knuckles. If she hit hard, they could hurt. Get some ice.”  
“Yes, dear. Now get back to work so you can come home sooner.”

The line went dead without so much as a goodbye and Jaskier slumped onto the kitchen work surface. At least Geralt wasn’t furious. He gave himself a few more seconds before going back to Ciri, holding his hand out.

“Let me see your knuckles. Your dad said you might need ice.”

Ciri extricated her arm from the blanket and placed her hand in Jaskier’s. The knuckles were still a bit red, and Jaskier didn’t know if that was bad enough for ice or not. Best to just ask.

“Do you need ice? Do they hurt?”

Sucking on the spoon now hanging in her mouth, Ciri looked out the corner of her eye at him, taking a subtle fortifying breath. She nodded. Sorted. Jaskier had this whole childcare thing completely under control.

***

“Oh, oh, look,” Lambert said as Geralt came back out of the office at the garage. “He’s got that face on, must have been Jaskier that called.”  
“What face,” Eskel asked as he put down the tool he’d just been using.  
“The ‘Jaskier is giving off Good Dad Energy and I’m falling more in love with him face.’”  
“That’s oddly specific.”  
“It’s true though! Let me show you. Hey Geralt!” He called across the workshop. “You disappeared straight into the office when you got in, who called?”  
Drawing his eyebrows together, Geralt passed his brothers on his way back to his work station. “I had missed calls from the school and Jaskier. He was calling again. Ciri got in trouble at school.”  
“Do you need to go?” Eskel asked, concern over-taking his curiosity to see if Lambert was right.  
“Jaskier is assuring me everything is under control. He handled it well. But I will leave early when things calm down.”

Lambert glanced at Eskel quickly before continuing.

“He handled it well, did he? Who knew the musician would be good with this stuff.”

Geralt’s face went soft again briefly before he glared at Lambert, and Eskel sighed giving in to the fact that Lambert had assumed correctly.

“He’s good with Ciri. They get on well. His help has been invaluable.”  
“Has he given you any more little gifts?” Eskel joined in, now curious to see how much their relationship had progressed since the pub last month.

So far Jaskier had brought Geralt chocolates, flowers, cooked Geralt’s favourite meal after work, but the thing that seemed to make Geralt most flustered, or as flustered as he could be, was when Jaskier went above and beyond for Ciri. Drawing a connection between the relationship between Jaskier and Geralt’s daughter, and the tokens of affection Jaskier gave to Geralt was one of the methods that Lambert and Eskel had employed to help Geralt become more clued into his own feelings, but also to those of the musician. Without their interference, it was highly likely that Geralt wouldn’t realise he was being wooed. Not that they were sure he _had_ actually cottoned on.

Geralt almost growled in answer before speaking. “That’s none of your business.”  
“No need to get defensive,” Lambert laughed. “Let’s get back to work so we can get you home to your daughter and _dear friend_.”

The squint of Geralt’s eyes definitely indicated that he understood the implication behind that statement. Throwing his dirty rag at Lambert from his station, Geralt popped the hood of the car there, not saying anything more.

***

Geralt arrived home an hour and a half earlier than he normally did, and Ciri immediately rushed to the front door. Deciding to leave them to it, Jaskier continued what he was doing in the kitchen, turning down his music so it didn’t disturb them. Or maybe he should keep it louder so it didn’t seem like he was eavesdropping? No, even with the music this quiet he could only hear murmurs from the front room. He’d just keep doing what he was doing.

Eventually, Geralt came into the kitchen. He didn’t look annoyed or tense, he just looked tired.

“What have you done with my sous chef?” Jaskier joked instead of saying what he wanted. “I need her help.”  
“Thank you.” Geralt said, staring intently at the light in the oven. “For handling things today. Ciri told me everything. I… I’m glad it was you there. You’re better with words than I am.”  
“I know, dear heart. You probably would have just growled at her. It would have still been affective though, I’m sure. How’s Ciri?”  
“She’s fine. We had a good conversation about why we shouldn’t hit people even when they deserve it. She said she promises to be more like you in the future instead. Use her words not her fists.”

Feeling something like pride clawing at his throat, Jaskier breathed deeply, making sure his emotions didn’t well up and spill out of his eyes. Ciri wanted to be like him.

“That’s good,” he said eventually, and thankfully Geralt didn’t seem to notice the way his voice cracked. “She’s a brilliant kid, Geralt.”  
“She is.”

As a peaceful quiet settled over the two of them, Jaskier continued in his baking. He could manage well enough without Ciri, but it was more fun when she was there. Subtly, he looked at Geralt out the corner of his eyes, only to see his eyebrow raising in confusion.

“Are you listening to Christmas music?” Geralt questioned.  
“I’m making gingerbread, it seemed appropriate,” Jaskier stated matter-of-factly. “I have it on good authority that you have a soft spot for gingerbread. We’d been hoping to butter you up with baked goods if you were in a bad mood.”

Technically that reason was true; they wanted to bake something for Geralt just in case he was annoyed with them. But also, Jaskier just wanted to bake something for Geralt. He’d tried many other tactics to show Geralt how he felt, and most had gone over Geralt’s head so far. He’d meant it when he had drunkenly said he’d start wooing Geralt in earnest. Either he’d forgotten the conversation or thought that it was the ramblings of a drunken man, with no truth in it. Short of telling Geralt his feelings plainly, Jaskier was running out of ideas.

“It’s November.”  
“And? It’s after Halloween, Christmas music is fair game now.”  
“I haven’t even started gift shopping.”  
Jaskier scoffed. “Amateur! I bought yours back in July.”

Geralt huffed out an amused laugh and lightly brushed his hand down Jaskier’s back.

“I’ll go and bring your little chef back in then,” Geralt said, halfway out the door. “I just wanted to thank you first.”  
“You’re truly welcome, Geralt. Now bring back Ciri so we can finish your biscuits!”  
“Yeah, dad!” Ciri said through the door. “Let me back in!”

The fond roll of Geralt’s eyes and the cheeky expression on Ciri’s face as she peaked around the door wiped away the remaining anxiety that lingered, telling him he’d handled the situation all wrong. These two had accepted Jaskier into their lives, and trusted him to take care of them and do the right thing. And neither of them had any clue how much it meant to him.


	13. December - Christmas and Boxing Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you saw me posting this at 4am UK time, no you didn't.
> 
> Here's the penultimate chapter, folks! Sorry it took some time again, but it's a long one! Lots of different POV's too!
> 
> Also a Christmas chapter at the end of February?! Shocking, I know. There was a reason this fic should have been finished back in December... any way I tried to keep the festive vibes to a minimum so it doesn't feel too weird. Enjoy!

Yennefer could hear the sounds of a happy, festive household before she even reached the door. As Triss finished getting the gifts out of the car, Yen knocked loudly, waiting for the excited patter of feet to approach.

“DAD!” Ciri’s yell carried through the door before it got wrenched open. “Auntie Yen and Auntie Triss are here!”  
“Hurry up and close the door, Ciri,” Vesemir grumbled from further inside the house. “You’re letting in the cold air.”

Ushering in the two of them, Ciri waited until the door was closed before giving them both a big hug.

“Merry Christmas!” she said excitedly. It was strange how much Ciri had grown over the last few months, but Yen found comfort that she still got as excited about Christmas as she always did.  
“Merry Christmas, Cub,” Yen greeted, gently carding her fingers through Ciri’s hair. “Why don’t you go put the gifts by the tree whilst we say hi to your dad.”  
“Ok, he’s in the kitchen.”

As Ciri almost ran back into the living room with the gifts, Yen watched as Triss entered the kitchen and enveloped Geralt in a hug.

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” she observed from the doorway. The kitchen was far too small for three grown adults to be in there together, and definitely not big enough for all of the prep for dinner that Geralt had been doing.  
Geralt hummed, putting down the oven gloves he’d been wearing when Triss had embraced him. “The others brought some stuff with them. But we all know it’s never enough.”

He was right of course. In all the years that Yen had been coming here for the little pseudo family's Christmas celebrations, they never seemed to get the amount of food right. Most families made too much food, but here, with 4 large men who would go back for thirds and fourths let alone seconds, there was always too little.

Back when Yennefer and Geralt had been together, and before Geralt had Ciri, they’d just about managed to get it right. Then the split happened, and apparently with one less body, they all got used to eating her share too. Eventually, when Yen re-joined their Christmases, with her new partner Triss in tow, they’d adapted the meal again, but the guys had subtly grumbled about the amount left after the first round. Despite the many years it had been now, it seemed they were still in the trial-and-error stage.

“Well, if they complain again, tell them it’s their turn to cook next year,” Yen shrugged.  
“Don’t you remember what happened last time they tried?” Triss cringed. “There was _no_ dinner. That was a disaster, let’s not repeat that.”  
“Maybe it’s time they learned.”

An amused breath sounded from Geralt as he surveyed all that was left to do. They should definitely leave him to it if they wanted to eat on time.

When they entered the living room, Ciri was cuddled up on the sofa with Vesemir, whilst Eskel and Lambert were arguing about something off to the side. Everything was as expected.

“Alright, Cub,” Vesemir started, sitting up a little bit more. “Family’s all here, we can start your game if you want to.”

Ciri just shook her head, continuing to fiddle with her, likely new, Rubik’s cube.

“No,” she said. “Dad had to say I had to wait until all of the family is here.”  
“We are, sweetie,” Triss said gently. “Do you mean we should wait for your dad to finish?”  
“Well, yes we should wait for Dad, but that’s not what I meant. We’re still waiting.”

Lambert paused in his bickering with Eskel to turn to look at Vesemir. He mouthed ‘are we?’ but only got a bewildered expression in response.

“Ciri,” Yen knelt in front of her, “I’m here, Triss is here, your Grandpa and your uncles are here. Who are we waiting for?”  
Ciri gave Yen a look like she was being particularly stupid, and Yen would have resented it if she didn’t know that Ciri had picked up that face from her. “Jaskier.”  
“Of course, why didn’t we guess that,” Lambert mumbled, earning a jab in the side from Eskel.  
“Him and Dad were talking about Christmas and how Jaskier wouldn’t be going home because he doesn’t always get on with his family. But that would mean he’d be alone. So, we invited him here, because Christmas is a time for family, and you’re all always telling me that family is who you choose not just who you’re related to, and I choose him.”  
“She’s got a point,” Triss whispered, placing a reassuring hand on Yen’s shoulder.  
“And he’s Dad’s best friend, so him being here will make Dad happier.”  
“Of course, Cub. I completely agree,” Yennefer said, trying to smile pleasantly. “Your dad just didn’t mention it to any of us.”

She raised her voice slightly at that last bit, and from the kitchen she heard a crash followed by a muffled ‘fuck’. Geralt had a lot of explaining to do later.

“So, you don’t mind?” Ciri’s face went from determined to bashful in milliseconds.  
“No,” Yen reassured her. “I don’t mind. As long as it makes you and your dad happy.”

***

Yen regretted that statement not 5 minutes after Jaskier arrived.

As soon as he entered the house, the noise level increased and the relative calm shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. He loudly and enthusiastically greeted Ciri, drawing Geralt out of the kitchen as well, who had the smallest, most subtle smile on his face as he watched them. Interesting. Chatting idly to Geralt, Jaskier’s eyes drifted to the living room, spotting the collection of people there.

“Geralt,” he tried to whisper, but Yennefer could still hear him. “You didn’t mention this was a _family_ Christmas. I feel like I’m intruding.”  
“You are family.” Ciri said sternly, in the same tone she’d used to scold Yen earlier.

The look that passed between Jaskier and Geralt made Yen feel sick. She hadn’t mentally prepared herself to deal with these pining fools.

Every time that Yen and Jaskier had crossed paths since the incident at the school, Geralt had been there, and it had been obvious that _something_ was brewing and that feelings were involved. She’d hoped that maybe things had been resolved since last time, but alas, no. Now she had to deal with this for all of Christmas. _And_ the snide remarks Jaskier would undoubtedly throw her way, not that she didn’t provoke him. They’d managed to be more civil since June, and the ribbing was more friendly, but sometimes it was hard to tell.

Today was shaping up to be _great_.

On top of all of this, once Jaskier’s coat was removed, she was forced to pay witness to his eyesore of a Christmas jumper. Just looking at it was giving Yen a headache. The colours were just so bright.

He was introduced properly to Vesemir before saying hi to Lambert and Eskel, finishing the circuit in front of Yen and Triss.

“Yennefer,” he said, his smile slightly strained. “How wonderful to see you.”  
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” she replied. They both knew that was bullshit.  
“And just who is this beautiful woman you’ve brought with you?”  
“My wife, Triss.”  
“Your wife? Then I must commend you on your immaculate taste in women.”

Jaskier winked at Triss, taking her hand and briefly kissing her knuckles. Yen didn’t know whether to feel aggravated at him flirting with Triss, or preen, because yes, she did have good taste. Triss was the best.

“He doesn’t seem so bad,” Triss muttered as Jaskier swanned back off to the kitchen and to Geralt.  
“Just wait. He’ll get obnoxious sooner or later.”

***

Everyone likes to think that because Ciri is a child she doesn’t notice things. But they’re wrong. Ciri is eleven, not blind.

She can see what’s happening with her dad and Jaskier, and the way everyone else shares a look or a whisper whenever they do something particularly stupid. Like how Lambert not-so-subtly leaned over to Eskel to make a comment, when Jaskier turned up wearing a Christmas hat with mistletoe on it. They think they’re being sneaky with their scheming, but Ciri has been playing this game much longer than them, and she has a plan.

Step one had already been completed: get Jaskier to spend Christmas here.

The rest of the plan wasn’t particularly linear however. Step 2 is more difficult: get Dad to stop being so oblivious. She’s not sure if he’s oblivious about Jaskier’s recent intentions or his own feelings, but either way it needs to be fixed.

In order to complete Step 2, they need to spend as much time together today as possible. This is much easier said than done when her dad will be in the kitchen for a while longer with the cooking.

“So Jaskier,” Vesemir said conversationally. “Ciri told us all that you met around this time last year when you were carolling?”  
“Oh yes,” Jaskier smiled fondly, and Ciri sees Yen try to repress an eye roll in the corner. “I never expected this to come from knocking on someone’s door for carolling. I’m so grateful Geralt and Ciri liked me enough to keep around.”  
“Geralt also mentioned that you’re a musician by trade, not just for fun,” Triss cut in. “Would I have heard any of your songs?”  
Jaskier chuckled slightly. “Not yet, although never say never. The pieces are in motion.”  
“Could you please sing some carols for us now?” Ciri asked, turning her most irresistible puppy eyes onto him. It had been a while since her dad had heard Jaskier sing. Maybe this would help.  
“I could, but I don’t have my guitar.  
“That doesn’t matter, your voice is nice without it!”  
“Ciri, darling,” Yennefer said. “You don’t want to make him work on his day off.”  
“Really, it’s nothing,” he reassured before clearing his throat. “Any requests?”

Enthusiastically, Ciri asked for the carol he’d been singing last year when they opened to door to him. As expected, she heard the noises in the kitchen quieten down significantly, and she knew her dad was listening.

By the time Geralt was done in the kitchen, finally able to leave things to cook for a while, Ciri had come up with the next stage of Step 2.

“Dad can we play my game now?”  
“You didn’t have to wait for me, Princess.”  
“But I did! Because I want you to play. But also, because we need to be in teams and without you there’s an odd number.”

He hummed with amusement and went to go and sit down, but Ciri prevented it.

“No Dad,” she called. “We need to sit in our teams!”  
“And what are the teams?”  
“I want to be on a team with Grandpa!”

Sitting down on the floor next to Vesemir’s armchair, she directed everyone else to their seats: Lambert and Eskel sat at the table, Yen and Triss stayed where they were with Triss on the sofa and Yen on a chair next to her. This left Jaskier and Geralt on a team, and squidged up close on the other end of the sofa to Triss.

Perfect.

***

If Jaskier didn’t know any better, he’d that that Ciri was plotting. He didn’t know what her end goal was, but she definitely had more of a determined set to her features than normal.

Not that Jaskier could complain about this meddling. The current seating arrangement had left him and Geralt sitting far too close together, their knees knocking occasionally, and warmth radiating off of Geralt and into Jaskier’s very soul.

It was maddening to have Geralt that close and not be able to reach out to touch. He wanted to place a hand on Geralt’s knee, or an arm around his shoulders, but there’s only so much contact you can pass off as being platonic.

Each time one of them had to stand up and draw a picture on the board, the loss Jaskier felt at the contact was deep even if it was only for about a minute. _Wow_ , he thought to himself. _I really am fucked_.

When Geralt was drawing, Jaskier had to try so hard to watch the drawing and not Geralt himself. During Jaskier’s turns, he was determined not to let his mind wander to the thought of Geralt sat beside him, or the intense look of concentration he was no doubt sending in Jaskier’s direction. They’d lost a few points so far from Jaskier getting distracted, and so far, they were in last, leaving Ciri and Vesemir to storm ahead. The other two teams had also tried to keep up with the Grandpa-Granddaughter duo, but had been unsuccessful.

Geralt’s timer for the food blared loudly throughout the room, and they decided to call the game there, and clear the table whilst Geralt prepared the last few things. Before long, everything was brought out and placed on the table, along with little placeholder cards that Ciri had made. She had very kindly placed Jaskier’s seat in between her and Geralt, which was a relief. He was usually great at interacting with new people, but the idea of having to impress Geralt’s family had made him a little bit more on edge than normal.

They pulled the crackers and read the jokes and placed the flimsy paper hats on each other’s heads, and it was an incredibly heart-warming scene. But all Jaskier could focus on in that moment is Geralt. The way he tried to hide his smile at the terrible jokes, how he fondly watched Ciri try to win the prize in the cracker with her uncles. As the meal went on, the blue crown that had been placed on Geralt’s head kept slowly slipping into his golden eyes and as Jaskier reached out to fix it, a strange hush fell over the table. He could feel several sets of eyes on him but decided to ignore them.

The rest of dinner passed chaotically, the brothers all reaching for food almost constantly, and a fight almost breaking out over who would get the last roast potato that was resolved by Vesemir reaching into the fray and putting it on his own plate, saying nothing.

 _If this is what family gatherings are supposed to be like, I could definitely get used to this_.

***

Geralt could hear laughing. That by itself would not be a bad thing, but he knew that laugh. It was Lambert’s ‘making fun of my brothers’ laugh. Maybe Eskel had done something stupid. No, that wasn’t it, he could also hear the lower, quieter sound of Eskel chuckling. They were laughing at him. What had he done this time?

He was just trying to get the worst of the dishes out of the way so that they weren’t a nightmare to deal with tomorrow, and he hadn’t done anything particularly bad during dinner, so what had set them off? Only one way to find out.

Throwing the dish cloth back into the sink, Geralt re-emerged from the kitchen with his best scowl on, but that only made Lambert laugh harder.

“What?” he hissed.  
“You and Ciri look so adorable in your Halloween costumes,” Lambert eventually got out when he could breathe again.

 _Fuck_.

There went the plan of them never finding out.

“Jaskier,” Geralt grumbled, turning his glare to his friend, seeing him shrink back into the sofa. “Did you show them the photos?”  
“Well,” Jaskier started, cringing slightly. “Not on purpose.”  
“You just _happened_ to open the photos and they saw?”  
“Yes and no.”  
“Pick one.”  
“No, I didn’t open the photos. I just had a text message from one of my sisters that I needed to check and then they saw.”  
“That makes no sense. _How_?”  
“It’s not his fault, Geralt,” Eskel chimed in, a poorly hidden smile on his face. “He has the selfie of you and Ciri as his phone background and Lambert was being nosey and saw it.”

Looking around at everyone in the room, Geralt knew that was the truth. Lambert was still silently cackling, looking at a very red Jaskier out the corner of his eye. It was rare that Jaskier got embarrassed by something, yet here he was, hiding his face.

Taking on last look at the room, Geralt hummed, heading back to the kitchen.

Jaskier had a picture of him and Ciri as his lock screen. Interesting.

***

Things were going great with Ciri’s plan. She couldn’t confirm that Step 2 was complete yet, but she was sure that they were much closer than they had been at the beginning of the day. The game and the dinner had been great, but it was something she hadn’t planned that had pushed it further. She’d seen something shift in her dad’s facial expression as he heard about Jaskier’s lock screen. It was all coming together now.

By the time 5 O’clock rolled around, her uncles and Grandpa had left, and it looked like Yen and Triss would also be heading out not long after. Which would probably mean Jaskier wouldn’t be that far behind. When he tried to go, that would be when Ciri would initiate the next stage.

“It’s been a lovely day as usual, Geralt,” Triss said standing, going to get her coat. “But we need to head off. Good to finally meet you Jaskier, you’re much nicer than Yen lead me to believe.”  
“I suppose he’s not terrible,” Yen admitted.  
“And I suppose you’re not as much of a cold-hearted witch as I assumed you were.” Jaskier smiled sweetly but there was a glint of something else in his eyes, and Ciri had to stop herself from laughing. She knew that the two of them had never seen eye to eye in the months they’d known each other, but maybe they could get on in the future.  
“Hmm, quite. See you for pancakes, Geralt?”

And then it was just the three of them. After the chaos of the day, it was quiet, but this was nice. It was normal. But it wouldn’t last if Ciri didn’t enact her plan soon. Jaskier would be leaving soon.

“I guess I should go home, leave you two to your evening.” He said, already pulling on his coat. _Oh no. Not good._  
“But you have to stay!” Ciri exclaimed without thinking. She’d been planning on playing it cool.  
“Ciri,” Geralt tried to say gently, but she’d already started, she had to commit to this tactic.  
“You had a glass of wine with dinner, didn’t you? It’s not safe for you to drive!”  
“It was one glass, sweetie. And it was hours ago, I can assure you I am very sober right now. It’s ok for me to drive, don’t worry.”  
“Please stay!”

Jaskier made eye contact with her dad, and they had a silent conversation with each other. Would her dad advocate for or against Jaskier staying?

“I’ll talk to her,” he said, softly. “You can go if you need to.”  
“Dad!”

Right. Time for plan B.

Waiting for the right moment, Ciri watched Jaskier get ready to leave. Finally, he put on the hat that he had been wearing when he entered earlier.

“Is that mistletoe on your hat?” she asked, and Jaskier froze. Good.  
“Uh, yes. It’s festive.” He seemed nervous again, and Ciri had to refrain from cackling evilly.  
“Aunty Yen says it bad luck if you don’t kiss someone under the mistletoe.”  
“Did she now?” Geralt questioned, and Ciri avoided his gaze. Yennefer had not told her anything of the sort, but she knew Yen would cover for her if asked.  
“Mhm, and if you’ve passed under the mistletoe lots of times together, you have to do one kiss for each time, otherwise it’s even worse luck. So now you have to kiss Jaskier, Dad. At least once. If he’s driving home now, we don’t want to give him bad luck.”

Ciri could see the conflict in Geralt’s eyes at that. She could tell that he was thinking about Ciri’s near meltdown about Jaskier driving right now and that this would reassure her, but also the hesitancy there. Jaskier on the other hand seemed to have checked out of the conversation, staring at a random point on the carpet. They should have followed Ciri’s first plan if they wanted to avoid this. Not that they knew what she was planning, but the principle still stood.

“I’ll turn around if that’s what’s making you uncomfortable, but you have to actually promise to do it.”

Just as her dad started to move, Ciri turned around, and hoped that maybe this would be the push they need.

***

 _Christ, I’m living a charmed life_.

Geralt was kissing him. This was _actually_ happening.

If Jaskier admitted it to himself, this was what he’d hoped would happen when he wore this dumb looking mistletoe hat, but he knew it was unlikely. All other attempts at flirting with Geralt, or him making his feelings known had failed, why would this have been any different?

And yet, here they were.

Thank god for Ciri’s meddling.

It took his brain a few seconds to catch up with the situation, but when it did, Jaskier had to stop his knees from giving out underneath him. Geralt could have given him the briefest kiss to satisfy Ciri, but he _lingered_ , his touch soft and uncertain. Jaskier didn’t want to take more than Geralt was willing to give him right now, but he yearned to pull Geralt even closer, and lace his fingers through Geralt’s long, silver hair. Instead, Jaskier gently placed his hands on Geralt’s arms, and committed every second of this moment to his memory.

All too soon, Geralt gently pulled back and Jaskier immediately felt the loss.

“So that was one,” he teased, not knowing how else to deal with the feelings roiling in his stomach. “Will that be enough or did I pass you with this hat earlier?”

Next thing Jaskier knew, Geralt’s strong hands bracketed his waist and pulled him in close again. Jaskier let his hands travel up Geralt’s arms, over his shoulders, and rested them at the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair.

Now _this_ would be the end of Jaskier. He was going to die kissing Geralt, and he was completely fine with that.

The feeling of Geralt’s arm snaking from his hip up his back caused a thrill to run through Jaskier, his skin on fire in it’s wake. Jaskier could write a million songs about this feeling, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

And then he could write a million more about the heart ache and longing that this will cause.

Geralt was only doing this because of a holiday tradition that his daughter had forced him partake in. As soon as Christmas was over, everything would go back to normal, and Jaskier would return to his standard state of pining from afar.

But when they separated once more, Jaskier found himself staring directly into Geralt’s amber eyes, unable to bring himself to regret this.

“Stay,” Geralt practically whispered, his voice more vulnerable than Jaskier had ever heard it. Logically, he knew Geralt was only asking for Ciri’s sake, but the more selfish side of him wanted Geralt to be asking for himself, because he wanted Jaskier around for longer. “At least for a film, if not the night.”

Geralt’s face turned almost bashful and Jaskier was once again weak, knowing he could never deny this man anything. He’d stay forever if Geralt asked.

But that was the problem. He never would. And Jaskier’s heart was breaking.

***

Ciri wasn’t surprised that her dad had convinced Jaskier to stay. It wasn’t that hard once she figured out what she needed to do. And now that they were sat watching A Muppet Christmas Carol together, she knew her dad was not paying attention. Instead, he was sneaking glances at Jaskier every few minutes, studying his profile.

She was sat between the two of them on the sofa, curled up in a blanket, and leaning her head against Jaskier. It was nice, them all being here together like this. With Step 2 of the plan likely complete now, she could begin with Step 3: Get Dad to do something about this. The end goal of this plan would be to have this all of the time, her dad and Jaskier happy together, and Ciri basking in their love for each other and for her. They were already basically a little family unit, they just needed to make things official.

For now, the final stage of today’s plan was already in motion. Ciri had been yawning obviously for a while, and began leaning more heavily on Jaskier, her eyes closing for longer amounts of time. She was going to fall asleep on Jaskier to make sure he couldn’t leave.

Honestly, she still wasn’t sure what this stage of the plan would achieve overall, but the longer she kept Jaskier here, the longer he spent with her dad, and the more her dad could realise that he was head over heals in love with his best friend.

When the film eventually ended, Ciri felt Jaskier move, but she kept herself loose and her eyes resolutely closed.

“I should go,” he yawned. “I don’t want to intrude on your night any further.”  
“Ciri’s asleep,” Geralt stated.  
“Oh. I don’t want to wake her.”  
“It’s fine, I’ll wake her, or I’ll carry her upstairs.”  
“No, it’s ok, Geralt. It’s probably been a tiring day for her, let her sleep. And if you move her now, you’ll disturb her. Wait until she’s in a deep sleep.”  
“But-”  
“I can stay a little bit longer if that’s ok with you.”  
“Of course it’s ok. I could put on another film?”  
“That would be great.”

This was good. Now they’d get to have some time technically just the two of them. Ciri had to refrain from smiling to herself.

***

When Geralt put on the second film of the evening for him and Jaskier to watch, he’d picked one at random because he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on it anyway. He did, however, regret choosing a musical, and one that Jaskier seemed to know quite well.

 _Mamma Mia_ was a recent favourite of Ciri’s, who had recently discovered ABBA’s entire discography, and it seemed Jaskier was also a fan. Quiet enough so that it didn’t rouse Ciri, but loud enough that Geralt heard, and for the second time that day, he felt his heart jump slightly at the sound of Jaskier singing.

_Damn it._

In between songs, the talked quietly, either making silly comments about the film itself, or chatting about literally anything else.

But eventually, Jaskier stopped chiming in with a new topic to talk about every few minutes, and when Geralt looked over, he saw him also fast asleep, arm draped over Ciri’s side. Of everything that had happened today, this was what was doing his heart in.

Well, maybe second to the kiss they’d shared. No _, kisses_. _Fuck_.

Today had been too much. Had Geralt been putting off thinking about his growing feelings for his friend? Absolutely. But now, well, they were hard to ignore anymore. Everything that had happened today had pushed him over the edge into realisation. The emotions he’d felt every time he’d seen Jaskier looking after Ciri, and how the image of Jaskier in his Halloween costume had haunted his dreams, how he always felt happier when Jaskier was home with them, it suddenly all made much more sense.

However, just because he’d become aware of this, that didn’t mean now was the time to dwell on it. Now was time for sleep, and then, maybe in the morning, after Jaskier woke up and went home, he’d think about the situation.

Geralt stood up slowly and carefully, making sure not to jostle the two sleeping bodies. Then, he lifted Ciri from Jaskier’s side, hoping this wouldn’t wake her, before taking her upstairs to her room. Once she’d been tucked into bed, Geralt grabbed a blanket from the cupboard before going back to Jaskier.

He tried to tuck the blanket firmly around Jaskier. It could get very cold down here in the winter and he didn’t want Jaskier to wake up in the middle of the night freezing cold. But even then, he knew that blanket likely wouldn’t be enough. The issue was, they didn’t really have many other spare blankets around the house as they hadn’t had guests stay over for the night in a while. Hopefully Jaskier would just manage to sleep through the night.

It was only 9 O’clock, but Geralt felt a wave of tiredness wash over him and he knew he should also go to bed. Hesitating as he went to leave the room again, he took one last look back at Jaskier, sleeping peacefully on his sofa.

***

When Jaskier awoke, it was almost pitch black, the only light coming from a streetlight outside and the small digital clock on the DVD player, which read 1:38am. As he slowly came to, he noticed the crick in his neck and the chill that had settled deep into his bones, and he realised that he must have fallen asleep on Geralt’s sofa.

So much for leaving. And it was definitely too late to leave now. The logical thing to do would be to try and get back to sleep, but without even trying, he knew that he was too cold to sleep again. Potential solutions included locating his coat once more and using it as an extra layer, making a cup of tea and drinking it so that it warmed him from the insides, or… waking Geralt and asking if there was another spare blanket.

He was loath to wake Geralt at this time, especially after how busy he'd been all day, but really, it was bloody freezing down here, and the other options were temporary solutions at best. How would Geralt react to being woken though? Probably badly. He’d be incredibly grumpy. But Jaskier would be warm.

Tip-toeing up the stairs, Jaskier tried to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb Ciri as well. When he knocked on Geralt’s door and said Geralt’s name as softly as he could, he heard a grunt from inside and took that as his invitation to enter.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said again. “I’m really sorry for falling asleep downstairs. If it wasn’t this late I would have just gone and left a note, but as it stands, I’m here and it’s cold. Do you have a spare blanket?”

There were a few moments of silence, and Jaskier wondered if Geralt had immediately fallen back to sleep. But he was proven wrong moments later when the covers were pulled back from the unoccupied side of the bed.

“Get in,” Geralt mumbled into his pillow.  
“A-are you sure?” Jaskier spluttered.  
“Yes. It’s warm here. Now get in before I murder you for waking me up.”

Jaskier didn’t need to be told twice. He closed the bedroom door behind him and cautiously clambered into the bed beside Geralt, wishing he was more awake to appreciate this fully.

Instead, he’d just freak out in the morning. For now, he would revel in the heat coming from Geralt.

***

It was strange that Ciri was the only one awake in the morning to greet Yen when she arrived with Triss for Boxing Day pancakes, but not unheard of. Having the full family here yesterday must have drained him completely if he was still asleep.

Instead of waiting for Geralt to rise, Triss asked Ciri where all the ingredients were kept and started the process of making the pancakes so that Ciri didn’t have to keep waiting, and then, as if summoned by the sounds of someone messing around in his kitchen, Geralt stumbled down the stairs.

“Here,” he said to Triss, taking the whisk and bowl full of half made batter from her. “I’ll finish that. You three go wait in the front room.”

In the time it took for Geralt to finish in the kitchen, Yennefer had already taken in the state of the sofa, with a blanket haphazardly thrown to one side, a coat that definitely wasn’t Geralt or Ciri’s thrown over the arm, and an unfamiliar pair of shoes sat next to it. She had a sneaking suspicion that once again, Geralt had neglected to tell them something, and she _would_ be finding out.

“So how come you slept so late today, Geralt?” she asked, trying to come across nonchalant as she drizzled a pancake in golden syrup. “Long day yesterday?”  
“It took me a while to get to sleep. Lot’s on my mind.” He squeezed some lemon juice on his own pancakes with a little bit more force than necessary.  
“Such as?”  
“I don’t want to talk about it.”  
“Of course you don’t.”  
“Yen,” Triss chastised her. A noise sounded from the stairs and Yen immediately became suspicious again. “Leave him be. Let him eat his breakfast. Oh,” Triss let out a surprised noise as she turned to the entrance of the living room. “Good morning Jaskier! We weren’t aware you’d stayed the night.”

Jaskier looked like a deer caught in headlights, and this _delighted_ Yennefer. She’d been right.

“Geralt, you have once again failed to mention the fact that Jaskier will be joining us,” she said, turning a raised eyebrow to Geralt.  
“Oh don’t worry, Yen,” Jaskier sighed. “I’ll be out of the way soon. I hadn’t planned to be here this late, I have lots to do at home. Good morning, Triss.”  
“You stayed!” Ciri bounced excitedly in her chair, visibly brightening. “You have to have breakfast with us before you leave.”  
“Ok, but then I really have to go.”  
“Don’t leave so soon on our behalf,” Yen continued, faux cheer in her voice. “We’ll be staying a little while anyway, I think. Geralt and I need to have a _chat_.”

Geralt averted his eyes at that, turning all of his focus to his plate. Good. He should feel uncomfortable right now.

Looking back at Jaskier, Yen took in his messy clothes, the same ones from yesterday, and decided to embarrass Geralt further, and possibly Jaskier in the process.

“Look at the state of your clothes,” Yen tutted. “Just what did you two get up to last night?”  
“Nothing,” Jaskier rushed to say, his face turning pink. “Ciri convinced me to stay for a bit longer, and we watched some films and I accidentally fell asleep on the sofa.”  
“But you weren’t on the sofa when we came in, so unless you take an unnatural amount of time in the bathroom getting ready in the mornings, which I doubt you would have done today looking at your hair-” Jaskier ran a hand through his hair self consciously “- then you must have moved at some point in the night. Geralt, you don’t have a spare room, do you?”  
“No,” Geralt mumbled.  
“So that means he must have stayed in your room?”  
“Yes.”  
“You could have at least given him one of your shirts to sleep in, god. Look at him.”

Geralt did not look at Jaskier, he just kept his gaze on the sugar crystals dissolving into the lemon juice on his pancakes. There was definitely more to this than either of them were telling her, and Yen would get to the bottom of it.

The rest of breakfast passed rather awkwardly, and Jaskier practically ran out of the door when it ended, giving Ciri a tight hug, and clapped Geralt on the shoulder in a way more befitting of ‘bros’ instead of the casual intimacy they’d shown yesterday.

Once he was out of the door, Yennefer suggested that Ciri go and play with Triss, leaving her alone with Geralt for the first time that day.

“Now,” she said patiently. “What was that?”  
“What was what?” Geralt replied.  
“He couldn’t wait to leave. What did you do?”  
“Nothing.”  
“That’s hard to believe. Tell me what happened, and don’t leave _anything_ out.”  
“Well, Ciri wanted him to stay, but he said he had to go. She seemed to let it go but then pointed out the mistletoe hat he had on, and said you’d told her that it was bad luck if you didn’t kiss under mistletoe.”  
Yen knew she’d never told Ciri anything of the sort, but she admired the kid’s creativity. She got her devious side from Yen. “I vaguely remember mentioning something like that.”  
“Hmm.”  
“Wait. You don’t mean to tell me you two kissed?”

Geralt stayed silent.

“Finally!”  
“No, it’s not like that,” he protested.  
“What do you mean it’s not like that? You kissed, and then he stayed over. In your bed no less.”  
“We kissed because of a dumb holiday tradition. And then nothing happened in the bed, don’t give me that face Yennefer. He was cold downstairs, and it was the easiest solution.”

The urge to smack her head against the table was strong, but Yennefer just about managed not to. God, the pair of them were so fucking stupid.

“You are useless,” she stated, and Geralt scrunched his eyebrows together in response.  
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have feelings for me, Yen.”  
“ _Are you blind?!_ Ok, first you’re going to talk me through everything you two have done together recently, and everything he’s done for you so I can show you how wrong you are, and then we’re going to make a plan. I refuse to deal with this any longer. You _will_ deal with your feelings, and you _will_ realise that Jaskier has been he's been besotted with you for at least half of the year. Then I'm going to tell you what to do about it so that I don't have to deal with this anymore. When are you seeing him next?”  
“He invited us to an event he’s playing at for New Year’s Eve.”  
“A week isn’t much time, but we’ll work with what we have. Now start talking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you have read Carry On by Rainbow Rowell and spotted the small reference in this chapter, then I automatically love you. Those are the rules


End file.
